


Who's the fairest of them all?

by valia67



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15627621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valia67/pseuds/valia67
Summary: When his mother the queen Hunith disappears, Merlin has no family left, even if the whole castle is on his side. The death of his stepfather allows the power-lusting Morgana to get on the throne, more or less legally. She cannot bear the sight of the young man and does everything to ostracize him. Thus, when Merlin draws the attention of an attractive and twice as wealthy prince, the dreadful stepsister banishes him. On the run, Merlin takes refuge in the mysterious enchanted forest that sleeps near the castle, and makes some odd encounters that will help him defeat the fraudulent queen...





	1. A skin as white as snow

 

                Once upon a time, in a far far away kingdom, a queen named Hunith ruled upon her people. If many before her had been corrupted by the destructive appeals of power, she, for one, was known for her generosity, her inner goodness and her acute sense of justice. She was appreciated by the populace, and deeply loved by her only son, Merlin. With her husband, they formed an “exceptionally simple” family, rejoicing in the simple pleasures of parenthood.

                Unfortunately, one day, the queen’s husband died of a terrible disease that was uncurable, even for the castle’s best doctor and physician, Gaius. Leaving this earth, he breathed, in one last goodbye to his wife, that she needed to take care of their little boy. Devastated by the loss of her king, Hunith lost her foresight and her rational mind. She remarried with another noble, plain boring, who only sought dominance and wealth, and who already had a daughter, Morgana. His daughter was by far older than Merlin, and twice as Machiavellian as her father. When Hunith’s second husband died of old age, the queen was the one to disappear shortly after. Merlin had lost all of his family in the space of five years. No one ever heard about Hunith again, and Morgana was the one to acquire the so-coveted throne and thus reigned triumphantly.

                She destroyed the work of Hunith, raising dizzying taxes that starved the people to finance her own sumptuous parties; she changed everything in the castle, including the working hours of the domestics, almost enslaving them; and most importantly, she got rid of who could be her biggest problem.

Merlin.

Morgana locked the young boy in his room all day, in an elevated tour isolated from the rest of the castle. Emotionally manipulated by a great mastermind, Merlin did not really question this, especially at 14, and lived a secluded life consisting in reading, experimenting things and watching birds outside his window. Then five years passed, and the boy turned into a charming but secretive young man. He had even earned an ironic nickname from Morgana, _Snow White_ ; indeed, his skin was as pale as white flakes, reminding of the sweet radiance of winter. However, this clear complexion was sharply balanced by deep raven hair, shortly cut at the neck with charcoal strands falling on his ocean blue eyes. He personified Nature on his own, and had fallen in love with the beauty of it. Leaning against the edge of his window displaying a landscape plunged in snow, he welcomed a solitary bird that found refuge in his gentle hands.

“Well, aren’t you lost?” he smiled. “You’re freezing!”

The bird chirped in response, and buried his beak in the young man’s palm.

“I know, winter has lasted long enough. But unfortunately, I cannot control the weather. If I could, it would be spring all the time,” he said, content. The bird itself almost couldn’t stand the sappiness of this sentence. This was why Morgana hated him so much. He was full of love and joy, while she was reveling in darkness and sadism.

***

“Knight! Go in B4.”

A man adorned with an absurd horse disguise moved to the left, without saying a word.

“I SAID B4, YOU USELESS WORMHEAD !”

“Pardon me, my Queen,” the man articulated out of fear.

“Morgana, your strategy is well-thought, but your rook is in a bad position,” a black-haired man declared, as he was sitting in a chair next to the queen. She moved her charcoal locks backwards in a confident head gesture, while making sure that her heavy diamond-encrusted crown didn’t fall. Her stormy blue eyes remained focused on the full-scale chess game, radiating with assurance. At the same moment, another of Morgana’s piece moved, pushing the man’s king on the ground and thus winning the game. The queen let out a little laugh and smiled triumphantly.

“My dear Agravaine, the day I am in a bad position is the day your looks will please women,” she shot, proud of her thought-out insult. “Anyway, who’s in for another-“

She stopped mid-sentence, her face getting dark. Agravaine followed her eyes, and watched an unknown man getting down the marble stairs discreetly, almost ashamed of moving on his own. Regaining composure, Morgana shook her head, smiling, and patted her puffy green dress warmly.

“Merlin, my dear, come here. Come here, will you!”

The young man complied, and moved forward, more confident and all smiles, since the queen seemed glad to see him. He kneeled next to her, almost disappearing in the folds of her clothes.

 

“Is there a fire in your room?” she murmured, adopting a mother’s tone. The boy did not understand.

“I’m… sorry?”

Morgana leaned closer to his face, breathing something. “I said… Is there a _fire_ in your room that would cause your arrival here?”

Merlin’s vibrant blue eyes looked at her in heartbreak and disappointment. “N-No, it’s just that-“

“And _what_ did we say about leaving the room? That it ONLY needs to happen when…”

She waited for an answer, like a teacher tortures a child who didn’t learn his lesson, fully aware that he had seen through her sarcasms. “In case of a catastrophe, Merlin!” she answered her own question, raising her tone. “Do you have the memory of a fish?!”

Merlin abruptly got up, fed up with those blatant and humiliating mockeries, but still not daring to defy his queen in front of the whole castle. And everyone understood him. “It’s my birthday today, so I thought that… maybe… I could… attend the incoming ball?” he almost pleaded, but candidly convinced that Morgana would accept. She feigned surprise and put a hand in front of her mouth, grey eyes wide open.

“Oh…! Your birthday… Darling…” she said, compassionate. “For this special occasion, you’ll have the right to… I know!”

Merlin’s face lit up.

“To remain in your room, but with a square of chocolate. Don’t thank me, I know that it is exquisite and very rare. Just like an 19th birthday!”

And she continued playing, blatantly laughing at her own taunting and putting back her black locks behind her shoulder, still carefully holding her crown. She punctuated her speech with a “ _shoo shoo_ ” gesture, to subtilty tell Merlin to get lost.

***

                The young man held back his tears that watered his ocean eyes; it had been so many years that he had lost all of his family, and this nightmare was barely endurable. Hopefully, he still had Gaius to support him in this terrible ordeal, and who had been by his side since the very moment his father died. Merlin made his way to the castle’s kitchens, where all of the domestics and the old man always welcomed him warmly. As he got down the stone stairs, his eyes widened in astonishment.

“Surprise!!!”

A dozen servants along with Gaius had prepared a sumptuous blue cake held by the chemist, and were agitating little flags of the kingdom’s colours. “Happy Birthday Merlin, you deserve a cake as marvellous as you!”

The almost-tears Merlin would have shed earlier turned into tears of joy; his face was illuminated by a radiant smile, so big and so sincere that it made everyone’s heart flutter with gleefulness. As he took a piece of the delicious pastry, Gaius took him by the shoulder and accompanied him to tell him something.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course, you just offered me the best birthday, why wouldn’t it be?” the raven-haired man cheered.

“Merlin, I know you since you were a child. You are hiding what you feel to prevent others from worrying about you. It’s Morgana, isn’t it?”

The boy sighed, caught red-handed. “Yes, she is ruthless with me, and with everyone else. When I came down to see her, she was playing chess with real people, having the time of her life. How is it possible to be so heartless?” he felt outraged. Gaius put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Merlin, _you_ are the rightful heir to the throne. Not her. You are now nineteen, you’ve hidden long enough in the shadows. You deserve to see your kingdom, and as it _really_ is. Take back what is yours. Go see the misery and the grief that has clawed this desolated land; take a look at the people’s hopes and dreams, and how they were crushed to dust. I will always stand by you, no matter what, so fight for what you think is the greater good. Like your mother did before you.”

Hearing the mention of his long-gone mother, Merlin felt pain flood his entire being. But on the other hand, Gaius was right; he had stayed in his room for way too long. He was afraid to act, afraid to face his evil sister. But the old man’s words woke him up. He had no idea that the country was left to starve, as he lived a secluded life. So he decided to go see himself the ravages of Morgana’s chaotic thirst for power.

***


	2. A decisive encounter

 

The forest was empty. A dense and fluffy white coat covered the ground, absorbing the slightest noise and conveying an unbelievable peaceful atmosphere. Little flakes flew down, landing on treetops, bushes and on the heads of gallant travellers. Two men were heading for somewhere on horseback, swallowed by their warm clothes. One of them was taller, buffer, and a bit _prick_ -er.

“Can you believe that I managed to defeat him in barely one minute? That really was something” the man said, with a haughty head carriage, obviously a noble. The man by his side, probably his servant, felt compelled to answer, jaded.

“Yes, sire, you are without a doubt the best fighter in your kingdom.”

“I know. I mean, _thank you_. It’s true, though.”

“It would be a shame if you ever lost a fight, indeed,” the servant elaborated, making it look dramatic.

“Yes, well, don’t take things too far-“

“No, it would be, dare I say, a calamity. An outrage to Ares, god of War and military tactic!”

The first man laughed uncomfortably at the servant, but still full of himself. Suddenly, a cracking noise alerted him, and his blonde head turned to seek the source of such sound. His pale blue eyes scrutinised the woods, the trees, the bushes.

“Sire, what was that?”

“I don’t know, George, I am still looking. Maybe the wind.”

“Of course. Pardon my cowardice, sire, I am just not used to trav-“

                George disappeared off his horse, swept away by a rapid dark creature who jumped above the prince’s head. It was too fast for him to see anything distinctly. The horse, without his rider, became fearful and started to rear in panic, projecting his hooves high in the air and dropping all the supplies and victuals they had taken for this trip.

The prince drew his sword and wielded it with a steady hand, used to fights. His eyes were now scanning every corner of the forest, alert. “George!” he shouted out.

As he turned his head, he just had the time to see an enormous silhouette, at least three meters tall, fall on him; it was covered in black, with endless pointy legs. The creature leapt from one point to another with a stunning convenience, using some sort of springs in its legs to jump higher and take away humans. The prince threw his sword through the creature, but was too slow and missed. However, it could not carry him away, even if his horse rearing made him lose balance and fall on the ground in a thump.

He got up, unable to understand what he was confronting. And just then, the creature reappeared, with six of his peers, all of them standing still in the snow. Now that they were immobile, the prince could observe their faces and detail them in every way possible.

                They were in fact giants, dressed in black. Their legs were indeed never-ending. There were mainly men, but one woman was there too. Back on his feet, the prince swung his sword around in an intimidating gesture.

“Whatever you are, foul creatures, you will regret crossing the path of Arthur Pendragon, prince of Camelot and future king.” He spoke with a solemnity that was unknown to the giants, who only laughed at his face.

“A prince, you say?” one of them guffawed. “That means ye have a pretty nice budget, haven’t you? Got some gold in those bags o’yours?”  

Arthur realised he had made a mistake, and a stupid one. But flooded with confidence as usual, he responded and was ready to fight. “I have nothing for giant men like you.”

                And what shouldn’t happen happened. Two of the giants shrunk down suddenly, turning to the opposite of what they were; their legs folded like accordions, producing a ridiculous noise. The whole situation was quite comical. Arthur looked at them amazed, his sword dangling low in his hand. He pointed at them, starting to laugh uncontrollably.

“Oh my God” he began, “You are _dwarves_?”

“Yes we are, got a problem with that?” one of them answered.

“Of course not! I thought you were some sort of malevolent creature that this forest had spat out!”

“We’re engineers. We upgraded ourselves to deal with life.”

“Yes, I can see that, with accordions!”

The blonde couldn’t stop laughing, whereas the dwarves chastised him. “Asshole! Wanker! Bastard!”

“Hey! I am the prince of Camelot, do not speak to me like this, you petulant accordionists!”

“Okay then, fight us, you wannabe king!”

This sentence was punctuated with hearty laughs and exclamations. _Do it! Do it! Do it!_

“I am not going to fight you, I _cannot_ …” Arthur smiled, almost pitying them.

“And why is that?!”

“You are all so… small…!”

                Just as he was cracking up again, the two dwarves on the ground inflated their legs.  

***

 

                Morgana had won her chess game. She was happy. But didn’t she win at everything?

Bored with stupid games with stupid people, whose intellect could not match one of a frog, she made her way to her sumptuously vast chambers. Facing a golden wall with an imposing mirror, she chanted a few words.

_“Mirror, mirror, on the wall…”_

                The beginning of the sentence triggered something magical; gravity evaporated, and Morgana entered the mirror slowly, arriving in another dimension plunged in grey, in the middle of an ocean of magic. She walked to a pavilion to face a double of herself, who seemed wiser and even colder, reflected on the walls of the room and following her as she paced in it.

“God, I can’t believe I’m surrounded by idiots,” she began, literally _talking to herself_. “Can you believe? How am I ever going to find someone at my level, ever?”

“You must not overestimate yourself, every great strategist has this in mind,” the reflection answered.

“Whatever. I need a bit of your power for tomorrow, for the ball. I must be resplendent. At least more than usually.”

“You cannot keep on using magic and neglect its price,” the reflection warned. “And you will not be able to organise balls like those if people do not pay. It costs money to party.”

Morgana seemed to think. Indeed, once the people had paid everything they could pay, it was hard to find gold coins elsewhere. And the noble would never accept taxes. A tyranny can only work if the privileged class is privileged.

“How about I marry?”

“This seems like a good option,” the reflection continued. “Agravaine is mad about you. He admires your determination and your ruthlessness.”

“Ew, who would ever do that? Marry Agravaine? Disgusting. I deserve better.”

“Let me gather my power.” The reflection closed her eyes, and the grey world moved under magic’s weight. “I see… I see… A prince… will soon appear. I cannot be more precise, but you have to be patient.”

“Is he rich?”

“He seems to be.”

“Then I’ll be as patient as I must be.”

 

***

 

                Merlin had donned a heavy midnight blue hood that covered his whole figure from behind and his face, his white flowing shirt hidden by the thick fabric. He unaware put on superb polished black boots, the ultimate sign of nobility, as well as dark trousers to be free in his movements. Moving to the gigantic castle door, engraved with the kingdom’s name and inlayed in pearls, he rooted his feet in the ground in front of the two guards that watched over the visitors.

“Erm… you’re the prince, is that right?” mumbled one of them under his helm.

“I am.” He tried to sound confident. “I would like to go out.”

There was a blank. “Is he allowed to do that?” the same guard asked his colleague.

“Dunno. Just let him out, it can’t be that bad.”

And for the first time in five years, even if it was horrendously simple and trivial, Merlin got out of the castle.

 

 

                He had always loved winter and snow. Of course, he preferred summer and spring, because it was easier to organize wonderful garden parties and huge festivities, to which the people took part, like her mother did before. Since Morgana was the queen, it only had snowed, for five incessant years; everyone believed that she cast a spell upon the kingdom, to plunge it into desolation and perpetuate chaos and havoc. Indeed, the people didn’t have the means to protect themselves from the cold. But there was something magical about winter.

The raven-haired boy was thus lucky to have his cape in this weather. Crossing the bridge and moving forward, he soon enough arrived at the edge of the forest, standing in front of him like the gates to another world. He wandered into the woods, tainted in grey, his feet sinking into the snow, and he took great pleasure in it, almost playing like a child. He loved to glance at the animals who were still brave enough to live in winter, like the deer he saw bouncing behind a fir. Or like the two men hung by a rope upside down with their clothes off.

Lord!

The forest had really changed since the last time Merlin was in it. He doubted that two men hung by a rope upside down with their clothes off were new species in such a setting. He ran towards them, worried about their fate.

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

As the two had been hung together, Merlin could only see one person at once, when the rope slightly turned because of gravity. The one he was facing moved his head so he could see, almost bursting in tears.

“Oh my God, sir, you may be our savior! Please untie this-“

He received a hit in the ribs, ordering him to shut up. The rope turned, and it was the other man’s turn to face Merlin, far more confident than the other, even in such a position. He had shining wheat hair and a face red because of the blood that rushed to his head.

“What he’s trying to say is that, we, _inadvertently_ were attacked.”

“Exactly, and it is shameful for prince Arth-“

“MISTER Arthur, yes, I am barely a peasant like the others,” he hit his servant one more time to tell him to shut up. George looked at him, confused, but still wanted to be detached. Merlin spoke for the first time, his soft voice contrasting with the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You said you were attacked? In those woods? By whom?”

“IT WAS DWARVES-“

“ _Giant_ dwarves, haha,” Arthur made up instantly.

“So… like, _humans_?” Merlin hesitated.

“Yes. Humans. Exactly. Bandits, actually. Couldn’t have said better myself, right George?”

“You fucking idiot”

“What was that, George?”

“Nothing, my… dear peasant.”

Merlin couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the first time in years that he went out of the castle, and he fell on two victims of a theft. Things were getting too dangerous out there. “Well, I am not going to stand here, I will help you.”

“Oh thank you noble traveler, we are so grateful!” shouted George.

The raven-haired boy took out a dagger with a sapphire-incrusted sheath, and drew the blade out of it in a metallic sound. The two men panicked and started wiggling like worms in the air.

“Wait wait wait not the knife not the-“

Merlin sharply sliced the rope attached to a tree in one swift movement, causing the brutal fall of the victims. Arthur and George collapsed to the ground in a muffled sound, heads first in the snow. Instinctively, Arthur got up to protect the last ounce of dignity he had not lost, and faced his savior. His face returned to its normal shade, and the blood circulated through his entire, half-naked body. The dwarves had only left him his trousers. He moved towards Merlin, his hands tied in a tight knot, so he could slice it too.

“If you would care to finish what you started,” he said, not bothering to extend his tied wrists and directly moving closer to the knife in the other’s hand. Merlin was first taken aback by the proximity, and proceeded to cut the rope. Arthur had paler eyes than him, with a bit of grey in them, and his jaw was particularly sharp. He looked more like a prince than the raven-haired man did. Though he was quite muscular, the blonde was still not as tall as him, and that was a little victory for the man with a self-esteem lower than anyone. Arthur had an indecipherable expression on his face, a mix of curiosity, interest, judgement and relief. He seemed fascinated by Merlin’s _white-as-snow_ skin and his long black lashes, covering his focused eyes.

“Thank you,” the blonde said when he broke free. Merlin nodded, and freed George too. “May I have the boldness to ask who you are?”

As George wore an outraged expression plastered on his face, amazed that his prick of a prince was capable of politeness, Merlin lied on his identity, just like Arthur.

“I am… barely a servant. I work at the castle.”

“Well, you are quite richly dressed for a servant.”

“Erm, I am… appreciated by the… queen.” He felt disgust as he pronounced those words.

“And what is your name?”

“Merlin.”

“Oh. It is very unusual. As a name. I am Arthur.”

“I know, you said it earlier,” Merlin chuckled.

“Erm, do you by any chance go West?” the blonde wondered out loud.

“Unfortunately no, I am heading East… I do hope you will find warm clothes and a refuge, wherever you are going,” he jested.

“Ah, yes, I do hope so myself. Mmh. George, shall we go?”

George had his arms crossed, trying not to die of hypothermia. “I am ready, I was waiting for you. Thank you again, kind sir.”

And they said goodbye to each other, continuing their journey. George, still freezing but now laughing about the scene, elbowed Arthur, in a fit of familiarity. “If he turns around one more time to look at you walking away, there’s definitely something going on,” he guffawed.

“Don’t be stupid, George.”

But Arthur still looked behind him. And there, in the ever-whiteness of winter, a silhouette covered in dark blue turned around, and this face of an exceptional radiance smiled at him, and turned back right away, half in shame, half in embarrassment. The blonde did the same. George elbowed him a second time.

“Don’t forget that we’re _pretending_ to be peasant. Be careful when we get home.”

“Yes, sire.”

***

 

                Morgana was seated in her beloved throne, taking pride of place at the center of the immense royal hall. One of her servant was kneeling in front of her, proposing her shoes of all styles and all colours.

“No. Too flashy. Mmh. Vulgar. Commonplace.” She flat out said every time a pair of pumps was presented to her eyes on a sumptuous red cushion. The servant was refraining herself from rolling her eyes. Agravaine was still closely following the queen, fascinated by her beauty and her brains; and Gaius was also standing next to the throne to accompany the servant, observing the scene. As a pair of green sandals with golden ornaments flew in front of her eyes, a guard yelled loudly to announce somebody.

“Your Highness, the Prince Pendragon and Mister George!”

Two silhouettes appeared in their vision fields, making their way to the throne… half-naked. The blonde noble tried to hold himself gloriously, but had trouble hiding his bare chest with his arms, performing a strange pose of non-assumed nudity. George still had his undergarments on, so he just felt a bit lighter, but still had some skin saved from preying eyes. It was anyway not on him that gazes lingered. Morgana had her grey eyes wide open in astonishment, unable to believe that the prophecy predicted by her reflection would be achieved so fast.

“Prince… Pendragon?”

Arthur nodded, proceeding to bow slightly in front of the queen, and offering a respectful glance at the others around her.

“It is I, Arthur Pendragon, prince of Camelot, rightful heir to its throne detained by my father, Uther Pendragon,” he unfolded mechanically. Morgana gloated, a radiant smile lighting up her face.

“And… what happy occasion brings you to my humble kingdom?” she said while shooing away the servant.

“We were wondering if perhaps you could provide us with some food, shelter, and… clothing.”

“That’d be great” added George.

“But I also had the mission to seek new alliances with my father’s kingdom, and that led me to your lands. Among others. But that is secondary for now, isn’t it?” Arthur pleaded, desperate to find something to cover himself with. Morgana was caught in her thoughts, unable to speak for the moment.

“Secondary? I don’t think so… for God’s sake, somebody cover prince Pendragon! He’s distracting the whole kingdom and freezing to death!”

Gaius ran towards the blonde with a common blanket, made to cover couches, and threw it upon the man’s wide shoulders. When Arthur stared at him in disbelief, the old physician just shrugged, not questioning the queen’s tantrums anymore.

“As I was saying, your mission is not secondary at all,” continued Morgana with her plan in mind. “It is on the contrary of an extreme importance. Even more substantial than you covered. What does Camelot look like?”

Arthur regained confidence, proud of evoking his country. “Well, it is a rich soil bathed by sunlight, where crops are watered by the autumn rain and where people sing in spring. We have plenty of resources and a quite large army, which enables us to defend the kingdom easily enough. And we have of course made commercial ties with other lands abroad.”

Agravaine side-eyed Morgana, who was close to rubbing her hands together. “Wow, that is quite impressive indeed. You will be staying here for now, you are our guest. I cannot wait to get to know you better, prince Pendragon,” she smiled. “I guess the ball I am planning to organise will be a wonderful occasion to learn about each other more.”

Agravaine rushed to her, almost frightening the Queen. “MY QUEEN.”

“What?”

“If I may, our financial means are a bit… _limited_ for an umpteenth ball, if I may of course,” he urgently whispered, drops of sweat on his forehead.

“You may not, and you may not. Find the money, tax the people. I want this brat to be blown away.”

Arthur cleared his throat, aware to disturb. “Erm, I will be thrilled to attend such a ball, if… there isn’t any problem.”

“There is _none_ ,” Morgana assured, scarily fast changing her expression. She pushed Agravaine and got up, already celebrating her soon-to-be wedding and the tons of gold that would rain with it.

***

 

                “Dear God…” Merlin whispered, horrified.

A dismal spectacle offered itself to his eyes: the village he once knew, which had been flourishing and full of people, was now derelict, the snow crushing the fragile wooden roofs of the houses. The trees were naked and emaciated, and the comings and goings of inhabitants by foot had turned the white snow into a muddy mixture, full of rockery and bad weed. A wooden sign in the centre of the marketplace was displaying the news of the kingdom, and the queen’s main political decisions; most of them were tax raisings. The raven-haired boy looked infinitely more at ease than the people he saw crossing the streets, with his hood and his luxurious clothes. He felt like an intruder, but most importantly, he felt injustice. Why did he have that much, and those people nothing? It revolted him.

Just as he moved to the marketplace, a man arrived in a carriage with the royal coats of arms. He got down the vehicle slowly, careful not to dirty his boots in the mud, and made his way to the main sign. There, he put up a new ministerial circular, knocking a nail in the paper. The people hurried to see what was written on it. Almost immediately, they all cried out their outrage and anger, unsatisfied yelling emerging from the crowd. Merlin recognised the man: it was Morgana’s right arm, Agravaine. He made a gesture to silence the cries.

“Every household will pay this sum before tomorrow evening, no exception. Make sure that your neighbours pay too.”

“Unacceptable!”

“Corruption!”

“What does she do with our money?”

Agravaine put his hands in front of him as if they were protecting him from the people. “Everyone, how dare you question the taxes? This money is used for your own good, to defend the kingdom, against the _Beast_!”

He barely mentioned the creature’s name that everyone stopped screaming and gasped in horror. Children started crying as their parents held them close, when oldsters put their hands on their mouths in dread. The _Beast_ was upon everyone’s lips like a cursed whisper. Merlin paid attention, not knowing of this mysterious monster that terrorised the people.

“Yes, the Beast,” Agravaine continued. “It lurks in the woods, awaiting lost travellers and devouring them. But our army is powerful enough to keep it in there, as long as it is provided with weapons and armours, bought with the money you benevolently give us.”

And Agravaine left, proud of his speech that put a term to the people’s wrath and outcries. As the carriage disappeared in the snow, pushing strollers, the villagers dispersed.

Merlin was dumbfounded. Never had he heard the slightest mention of the Beast in the castle, no matter how dangerous it was. But there was one difference: he lived in the castle and knew the queen. And since Agravaine had used this to justify tax raises, it was necessarily untrue.

 

Merlin hurried to get back at the castle to tell Gaius what he saw. He found the old man in his laboratory, as disheartened as usual.

“Gaius! It’s terrible!”

He stopped to sit down in front of the physician, who had raised his head in surprise. He took off his glasses slowly.

“What is it, Merlin? You saw the village?”

“I did,” the raven-haired boy answered, feeling a lump in his throat. “It is dreadful. The people have nothing to eat, they are freezing, and they must pay grotesque taxes that allegedly protect them from a Beast!” “

“But you know better, don’t you?”

“I am almost certain that it is a lie made up by Morgana. She has too much of a lavish lifestyle and needs money.”

“Yes, especially since Agravaine himself said that they were bankrupt earlier. I was there. And she made everything to hide it from you. Morgana sucks the health out of people for her own distractions. She plans to throw a ball tomorrow evening.”

Merlin couldn’t believe his ears. She really knew no limits when he came to her whims. The boy looked at the physician with his radiant blue eyes, suddenly full of confidence and even a hint of revenge.

“Then, let’s crash this ball, shall we?”

***

 

                Morgana was indeed incredibly magnificent. It was one of her main assets, infallible when it came to men’s primitive instincts. Her black locks were styled up in a high bun, adorned with a sumptuous tiara, flaunting diamonds, rubies and topazes; her mouth was tainted with blood-like red, making her look like a supernatural nymph. As the theme of the ball was _Animality_ , anyone had to wear a costume related to an animal; Morgana had of course chosen a peacock, donning a gigantic red dress with an extremely long train and the feathers of the bird stuck to the back of the dress. The whole combination was frightening, intimidating and abnormally attractive. She moved royally, making her way to the ballroom lavishly decorated for the occasion. The giant hall was covered with red drapery, highlighting the grandiose marble tiles, and a huge golden chandelier hang in the middle, projecting a warm light everywhere. She stood at the top of palatial stairs, displaying her silhouette and hers only; and when everyone had their eyes stuck on her, she got down, wearing a smug smile on her carmine lips.

Agravaine extended his hand that held a mask, that Morgana was supposed to wear to distinguish herself. She took the mask, but not the hand. She wanted Arthur’s hand, not his.

Merlin sneaked up far less theatrically. He entered through a little door that gave on the kitchens, carefully watching if he wasn’t followed or recognized. No one looked at him, and it was the best thing that could happen. However, he was not less breath-taking than Morgana. The raven-haired boy had chosen a swan as his animal, known for his radiant whiteness that mirrored the man’s candour and purity. He wore a white shirt with discreet golden flower patterns and ample sleeves that made him look ethereal and celestial. The whole outfit was coordinated with those colours, with no false note; finally, he had added feathered wings behind his back, as well as a white cape. He hurried to the hall as the first dance was going to begin, with two unknown partners standing back to back. The purpose was to change partners regularly and to discover new figures at every dance.

Morgana turned her back, smiling mischievously; she had put prince Pendragon behind her purposely. But as Arthur was waiting to turn around, a fat and old high dignitary dressed as a sea lion pushed the young prince. The queen’s beauty had tempted many…

“Move, kid.”

Arthur fled without asking question, quickly looking for a free spot. He caught a glimpse of a white silhouette alone, and positioned himself behind it.

The orchestra began to play and filled the hall with lively music. Everyone turned around in one movement. Arthur and Merlin did the same. And they wore the same astonished expression on their face as they were in front of each other.

“ _You_?!” gasped Merlin.

“You?” said Arthur, astounded.

“But how- why-“

“I could ask you the same!”

The music kept on flowing, and everyone was making funny faces at the two who persisted in not dancing and disrupted the choreography. Arthur chose to explain things later.

“Shall we dance?”

The dance was very chaste, as people joined their hands, moved around, made a few steps. But Merlin did not know what to say nor where to look as he touched the gloved hand of the blonde dressed up as a rabbit. Unfortunately, the other had seen his ocean eyes.

“You have quite captivating eyes, why are you looking at the ground?” he said charmingly.

“Because I’m trying not to crush your feet, obviously.”

Arthur laughed.

“You’re such a bad dancer?”

“Usually no, but your presence here is troubling me.”

“Oh, I take that as a compliment.”

“Please don’t.”

They kept on turning around, to regain their initial position, back to back. They were supposed to change partners, but Arthur gently pushed a woman aside, just to keep talking. Merlin wasn’t even surprised when he saw again the blonde’s smug face.

“So, do you live in the castle? Do you have friends here, or family?” the blonde asked, touching merlin’s hand softly and taking a step left to turn around.

“I do. But I don’t think we’re intimate enough to share all of my tragic backstory to you. What about you?”

“I… am here as a… peasant AND a sales representative,” he made up.

“Oh, really? And what do you sell?” Merlin chuckled.

Once again, they regain their initial position, but the raven-haired boy awaited his answer. Arthur violently pushed a man coming up. They turned back around to the sound of violins.

“I don’t think we’re intimate enough to share all of my selling secrets,” Arthur retorted jokingly.

“You must be a shabby seller, then.”

The blonde laughed to hide his outrage, head backwards. He held tight on the other’s hand, and made him spin so he could link his arms around him. This dangerous move had a bad outcome: Merlin crushed Arthur’s foot with his own, losing balance momentarily. The dance stopped for a moment as the poor dancer drowned himself in excuses.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, but that was unexpected and-“

“Well, if I’m a shabby seller, you’re a shabby dancer,” the blonde said while swallowing the pain. The music indicated that they changed partners, regaining for the third time their initial position. Despite his painful experience, Arthur couldn’t help but push even more strongly the person who wished to dance with Merlin. He faced once again a face he found reassuring in this weird castle.

“Aren’t we supposed to change partners?” Merlin asked, credulous.

“I am not accustomed to this whole dance thing,” said the prince accustomed to ball ever since he was born. “So, _Merlin_ , do you know the queen well?”

The raven-haired boy panicked at the question. “Erm… That is to say… I am acquainted with her… somehow…”

“You told me you were a servant, didn't you? What kind of job do you have?” the blonde relentlessly asked.

As they turned around and as Merlin was going to make up something, his white cape floating in the air, his radiant blue eyes met Morgana’s. He felt a thrill roll upon his spine, paralysed with fear. She was already mad with anger to have lost the prince, so when she caught a glimpse of the person she abhorred most in the world, her face turned as frightful as a demon’s. Merlin had one thing on his mind: fleeing. He let go of the blonde’s hand struck with shock, and started to retreat, fearful.

“Where are you going? Is there something wrong?”

“I…I absolutely have to go, I’m so sorry!”

“How can I find you again?!”

His cry was lost in the crowd that swallowed the white aerial figure, fleeing like a dove. Merlin ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction of Morgana. When he arrived at a door, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him in a dark corner.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say, this story is strongly inspired by the movie "Mirror Mirror" ! Which I adore, by the way...


	3. Thief is a respectable profession

                 Morgana was pacing in her gigantic chambers, her evening gown on, clothing her figure like a Greek goddess. Her charcoal hair was let down on her shoulders, cascading onto her back, and she had exceptionally put away her crown in a safe. It was less easy to sleep with a five-kilos tiara on the head. Merlin was held by Agravaine, who was strongly squeezing his arm in anger; finally, Gaius had run in the room to try to temper the queen’s ire. The raven-haired boy felt terrified, but maintained a purposeful and steadfast expression; he was not going to let this go. He had every right to enjoy a ball from one moment to another.

“ _May_ I know,” began the queen, “how your brain managed to connect the two synapses that somehow dreamt about _going to my ball_ and _dancing with my prince_?” She was so close to trembling in wrath that she didn’t even move. Her face was completely neutral.

“I am part of the castle, and he is not your prince,” Merlin spat.

“Silence, you filthy snoop!” Agravaine shot.

“Do not tell him to shut up, I just asked him to explain himself. Even if that was _quite_ rhetorical, actually,” she folded her eyes, judging the white silhouette. “So, any explanation beside your innate stupidity?”

“I may be stupid, but I am not a fraud. I do not rule upon this kingdom by extorting exorbitant sums of money to people who cannot even eat! Just for silly parties!”

Morgana started to chuckle. The chuckle turned into a heartless giggle, to transform into a resounding laughter. “Merlin! This is the first sensible thing you ever said in your life,” she smiled. The boy frowned in confusion. “I am going to quote you,” the queen pursued. “You do NOT rule upon this kingdom. _I do_. And guess what? You never will. Because you are a weak soppy bird-enchanting clot, who never _sought_ the throne and didn’t even look for his missing mother!”

Merlin’s blood boiled, as he violently broke free of Agravaine’s unsuspicious grip. The man’s eyes opened as he caught him back, the boy visibly walking towards Morgana and ready to launch her off the balcony. Gaius rushed towards Merlin, preventing him from offending even more the queen.

“Merlin, stop! Don’t worry, your Highness, I am holding him.”

Indeed, the physician had surprisingly earned the woman’s trust, and wanted to act against her in the shadows. Merlin was screwing his plan.

“How _dare_ you attack me? Things are really getting out of hand in this forsaken kingdom. You get out of your room, interrupt my game, crash my ball and steal my prince! What is next? Poisoning me in my sleep?”

The raven-haired boy couldn’t hold his rage. “Stop giving me ideas, Morgana,” he breathed. That was the final straw. Morgana resumed her pacing, visibly proud of the idea she just had.

“Fine. I deduct that we can no longer get along. Unfortunately for you, _Merlin_ , I am the Queen. And as one, I banish you from this castle. Gaius, take him to the woods. Agravaine, you stay there, I need you here.”

Merlin’s ocean eyes went as big as plates. He started protesting, and was devastated that Gaius had betrayed him. “What? No! How could you?! You can’t do that!”

Morgana turned around, next to Agravaine, and shot him a radiant smile. “I can. And I just did. Gaius, bring me his intestines when you’re back.”

The physician gasped in horror. “Pardon me, my Queen? I thought you said banishment?”

“I know. And it’ll be certainly more difficult to be on exile when your tummy is half open,” she cackled. “If I don’t have my intestines, yours will do too, Gaius. Goodbye, _Snow White_.”

And she pushed them out of the room with a wave of magic, relieved to be rid of the biggest problem of her life.

“I’ve never felt so good!” she exclaimed.

 

***

 

                Merlin had his hands tied behind his back, Gaius pushing him in the cold windy night that projected snowflakes violently. The woods were swallowed by a dark gloom that made it hard to see a path, the whiteness of the snow now appearing grey. The raven-haired boy’s wings had fallen, and he only preserved his shirt, trousers and boots from his ball outfit, dirtied by dust, mud, and wet by melting snow. His cheeks were red, his ears were freezing, and he had trouble walking straight because of the rope.

“Gaius, please, I’m begging you, don’t do this!” he pleaded. “You supported me in this! You know she will have both of us dead in any case! She is evil!”

The old man stopped. Merlin turned around, to see him as affected by the wind as he was, trembling because of the cold. Gaius suddenly took out a knife.

“Please, no, please!”

He cut the rope that enslaved the boy’s wrists. Merlin once again did not understand. “Was this… fake?”

“I cannot disobey Morgana right now,” he conceded. “You are the ultimate weapon. You are the free electron. You will strike from outside. I, on the other hand, will try to slow down Morgana as much as I can. I’m asking you to be strong one last time, Merlin.”

“Wh-What do you want me to do? Here?”

“Run. Organise a rebellion in the village, they will believe you. But please, be careful of the Beast!”

“The Beast?! I thought it was just a myth!” Merlin cried out.

“I thought too, but did you see? She has dark magic on her side. I do not know what she is capable of. She may have really created such a monster! Please, forgive for not helping you better than this… But I trust you Merlin!” the physician shouted, running backwards in the snow.

“Gaius, no, come back! I can’t do this without you!”

But the man was already gone, plunged into the night. The wind blowing made it sound as if spirits were howling in the forest, and suddenly the woods came alive. The trees seemed to move, and Merlin heard footsteps in the dark. He began to run as fast as he could.

The breathing of a creature followed him, and the steps kept on going. The boy ran despite the freezing air burning his lungs, almost out of breath. He ran for what appeared to be an eternity. But in his race, as he turned his head to see if the Beast was still following him, he did not see a branch that knocked him out. Exhausted, freezing to death and destroyed by fear, he collapsed at the foot of the tree, losing consciousness. In a few hours, he would be dead. But in his despair, he had not seen that the place where he fell sheltered a little wooden house displaying a _No Entry_ sign, in the middle of this cold hell.

***

 

                Merlin thought his head was going to burst. Waves of pain bathed his brain at every movement he made. Wait.

Movement?

He was alive! He felt it even though his eyes were still closed. He was lying down somewhere, but it was warm and comfortable. He couldn’t be more curious to know where he had landed, thus violently opening his eyes. Two radiant blue circles appeared under his lashes. The first thing Merlin saw was _seven heads_ bent over his “almost dead” body, six men and one woman. They bore expressions of disgust, inquisition and inextinguishable curiosity.

Merlin got up on his elbows as fast as lightning, startled, causing a violent headache. The heads all jerked backwards in surprise, letting out gasps and little yells. The woman, who seemed to be the head of this odd clan, took the lead and began an interrogation. She had tanned skin with long chocolate wavy hair, and a quite round face that expressed gentleness and honesty. Though right now she was extremely suspicious and distrustful. And she was… a _dwarf_. Like all the others.

“State your full name, age, position in the castle and annual wage,” she ordered. Merlin looked at her with big eyes.

“My… what?”

“Is he naturally dumb or did the branch he impaled himself on damaged his brain?” shot one of the dwarves, laughing. Merlin was actually referencing the words _annual wage_ , which he did not comprehend right away.

“Come on, Gwaine,” calmed another.

“State the first three, then,” demanded the brown-haired woman.

“Erm… Merlin… I am nineteen… and I just, used to wander around in the castle.”

The dwarves were outraged.

 “Merlin?”

“What kind of name is that? Don’t you have a family name?”

“Nineteen? You’re like a baby!”

“You _wander around_ in the castle?”

The chocolate-haired woman stopped this by raising her hands. “Calm down everyone. So you wander around and you don’t have an annual wage nor property assets? Hunith had made a law about wage though.”

Merlin lifted his face. “Well, I am Hunith’s only son, Merlin! That’s why I guess I don’t have a family name… It was… sort of obvious…” he hesitantly affirmed. The room went quiet at first.

 

“YOU’RE THE PRINCE?!!”

“You’re royalty?!”

“Are you Morgana’s step-brother?!”

Everyone went nuts in the little wooden house, the yells almost covering the wind’s howling outside. Once again, the woman tempered everyone’s astonishment.

“Let’s calm down, everyone. Okay,” she breathed in, trying to calm herself as well. “Why didn’t you tell us right away? And why are you here? Do you condone what your horrid sister is doing?”

Merlin straightened himself up, speaking with heartfelt indignation, almost trembling. “She never was and never will be my sister! I tried to prevent her from hurting the people more today, but she banished me! She wanted to feed me to the Beast! It’s been nineteen years that she has locked me in my room and humiliates me on a daily basis! And her bloody love-struck right-arm is holding in hostage all of my friends at the castle! Plus she wants to marry a wealthy prince because she has no money left for her parties! And she uses dark magic to satisfy her God-knows-what purposes in her evil-driven miserable life! I hate her!!!” he shouted out, getting carried away. The room went quiet a second time.

“Okay,” said a black man, “I think you might need some psychological assistance.”

“I DON’T! I JUST WANT HER GONE, IF NOT DEAD!!!”

And the dwarves all cheered while the raven-haired boy was having a seizure. He unexpectedly regained his composure though, and spoke again. “I want to destroy Morgana’s doing. I’ve been thrown in the woods by her, but a friend of mine untied me and told me to run. He said I needed to stir up a revolt against her, especially since I am the rightful heir to the throne.”

The dwarves _oooed_ in unison. One of them, rather silent since the beginning, spoke up. “That means you’re pretty important, right?”

Merlin was a bit confused. “Erm, I don’t like to boast, but yeah, this is what I just explained.”

“Wouldn’t it be just easier to hold you as a hostage and demand ransom money in exchange?”

“Mordred!” the woman cried out. Merlin chuckled, a bit dead inside.

“Too bad for you, there isn’t one person in the castle ready to give you one penny for my life. Morgana literally turned everyone into scared chickens and the people close to me are domestics. They can’t even eat properly,” he declared flatly.

“That doesn’t mean we can trust you, though,” the dwarf continued. “You’re royalty, plus you’re tall.”

“What if I’m tall???”

“We don’t trust you. That’s the way it works in here.”

The brown-haired woman seemed to be intensely thinking. “COUNCIL!” she shouted. All the dwarves formed a hermetic circle, holding each other’s shoulders and tilting their head forward, so that they could dramatically whisper about Merlin’s fate. The boy vaguely heard some “ _should we throw him out_?” that made him panic, since he had nowhere to go. This deliberation was getting really long. Finally, the woman raised her head up like the others, and moved forwards to stand in front of the still-sitting refugee.

“You can stay.”

Merlin smiled in relief, and audibly sighed, letting out the vivid emotions that had drained his strength out of his body. “Thank you so much, everyone! You are so kind!”

“But you will have to help us one time or another,” she added.

“Yes, of course, that seems natural. But it would be even better if I knew you all!”

The tanned woman smiled. “Right. I am Gwen, the leader of this little clan. I take the orders and my vote counts double, which is why you’re allowed to stay. The one who didn’t want you here is Mordred,” she said as she described a man with really pale skin, almost the same eyes as Merlin but curly dark locks and a more hooked nose. “There you have Gwaine, the life of the party, specialized in annoying people.” Gwaine had a jovial face with stubble, long brown hair and small eyes, and said hi to the boy. “Then Percival, Gwaine’s best friend and the strongest of us all,” she designed a chainmail-wearing tall dwarf, with his hair cut very short and a sharp jaw. “After that you have Elyan, my brother, who is rather the intellectual of the group, or at least can think a little more than the others,” Gwen pointed at a black man with a kind smile and tired eyes as everyone else booed Gwen. “Then Leon, a loyal and reliable friend, with the blond long hair and the stubble as well, and finally Lancelot, a skilled swordsman and a playful companion as well,” she concluded. “That makes seven of us, and we are called the Seven Deadly Sins as a clan.”

“You sound like a music group, it’s… very original,” said Merlin, amazed. “Well, I am thrilled to meet you even in those circumstances, as it is not a very joyful way of meeting.”

The dwarves chuckled, quite open to get to know the young man. Gwaine spoke again. “I have a question, why are you wearing those strange clothes? Do they love to cosplay animals at the castle?”

“I… was at a ball, before being thrown out. The theme was _Animals_ , so I was supposed to be a swan.”

“You could’ve taken a butterfly as well, it suited you,” the dwarf answered, flirty.

“Yeah, butterflies die within the span of three days,” Mordred cut in.

“Boys! Stop bothering Merlin!” Gwen interrupted. “But Gwaine is right, you need to change your clothes, they are wet and dirty. Find yourself some clothes in there, we have to leave.”

“Right now?!” Merlin pleaded.

“Yeah, one gotta live!” Percival said. “We don’t all make money by staying in our room.”

“I wasn’t paid, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Still had pretty swan clothes, didn’t you?”

And as the dwarves made a hearty laugh, Gwen threw a compassionate glance at the man while they all got ready to go out, putting on heavy clothes and pushing the door.

“Get yourself some nice clothes, birdie!”

“And there better be some nice food when we’re back!”

And the wooden door closed in a thump, as strange steps became more and more faint. Merlin looked around, marveling at the woodwork on the walls, the little beds all-aligned in a home-made mezzanine, the thick carpet on which he was sitting and the big drapes cut roughly to cover the windows because of the cold. A chimney had been built, projecting a friendly and sweet light on the ground as well as a strongly-needed warmth. Everything seemed to be made up from scratch, and the result was fantastic. Merlin felt already more at ease than in the yet more luxurious castle. He smiled, warmed his hands a little bit in front of the fire and went seeking unusual big dwarf clothes to cover himself with.

***

 

                Gaius was out of breath, his running nose flashing red and his hands chapped by the cold. He entered the castle quickly, made his way to the kitchens, and took every piece of meat he found in the pantry. He put them all in a bag he took to the queen’s chambers, not forgetting to dip his knife in the remaining blood. Exhausted, he knocked on the queen’s door who threw herself on him as soon as she saw him.

“Did you do it??!”

“Erm, yes your Highness, his organs are even… in there,” he gestured to the bag full of pork tripe and other lovely things.

“Ew, get that away from me, it’s disgusting!”

She left Gaius standing in the room next to the door, and proceeded to pace again, this time wearing a full smile, extending her arms as lightning struck behind her. She let out a “pleasured” sigh of relief, overly pleasured for the situation, that made the physician uncomfortable.

“ _OH_ my GOD that makes me feel so good! If only you _knew_ , dear Gaius! I am… I am… free!”

“I can imagine how… rejoiced it makes you.”

She rushed again towards the old man, who had sneakily blown his nose in one of the curtains before. Morgana took his frozen hands in hers, perfectly manicured, and looked at him in the eyes. “Gaius, we have to announce that the poor prince is dead, don’t you think? You can tell the domestics this evening. I’ll take care of the rest of the kingdom tomorrow. And you shall be rewarded in consequence, don’t worry. Now go, have a well-deserved rest,” she gently said.

“Erm, thank you,” and he got out as fast as he could. Closing the door, he saw Agravaine outside.

“What?”

“What did you do with my queen?”

“Are you implying something? You should know that nothing makes her more pleased than violent deaths and sadism.”

“Hm. I guess it’s done, then.”

***

 

                Another day was beginning in the kingdom, the sun already up high in the pale blue winter sky. Except it was the first day without Merlin. Officially. The castle displayed the death flags, black pieces of cloth hung onto the tours and everywhere in town. The domestics were crying along with Gaius, who could not take the risk to reveal the truth. Agravaine had taken a carriage to collect the usual unfair tax, on his way to the village, a smug smile on his face. He executed his daily routine, including lying to the people, insulting the mayor and pocketing enormous amounts of money in which he did not hesitate to plunge the hand and pilfer a little for his own good. The bags of golds and jewels in the carriage, he went back, necessarily going through the woods. The horses slalomed through the trees and carefully trotted on the snow, when a tree fell in front of them. Frightened, they reared and stampeded, damaging the carriage. Agravaine fell flat on his arse.

“Hey! What’s going on?! Move forward!”

He heard weird accordions sounds in the span of five seconds. By the time he got his head out of the window, the horses and the stooges were gone. Seven huge black silhouettes appeared in front of him and pushed the carriage on its side, causing the spilling of all the money.

“Yoohoo, it’s a royal carriage!”

 

And ten minutes later, Agravaine went back to the castle with only his panties and his shoes.

 

 

 

 

                Meanwhile, Morgana was taking great glee in the situation she had created. Entering a wide room prepared for lunch, with all kinds of refined food, she found Arthur standing there, fully dressed and radiating elegance, as she had ordered it. The blonde seemed taken aback but unsuspecting, as usual.

“You summoned me, your Highness?” he candidly asked, a bit dumb.

“Yes indeed, prince Pendragon. As I told you yesterday, we have a lot to talk about, and what better occasion is there than a delicious lunch together?”

“I recognise it is a wonderful initiative, all the more so as I am unbearably hungry.”

They sat down in response, Morgana chairing the table at the edge and Arthur positioned on her left side, at least three meters away from her. He began eating vigorously, glad to enjoy a nice meal.

“It is really delicious, my compliments to the chef,” he said between two mouthfuls.

Morgana smiled, and slowly extended her arms to grasp the table runner in crochet. Arthur looked at her, cautious. She proceeded to pull the fabric towards her, making everything on the table move, especially Arthur’s plate, and towards her own. As his precious food was now closer to the queen, the blonde silently slid on the bench to get closer, trying to ignore this weird gesture.

“I could not hear you from that far away,” Morgana smiled, almost batting her eyelashes.

“Ah. Erm. Yes.” And he resumed eating. The queen refrained herself from rolling her eyes up in her brain. She seized the blonde’s hand, preventing him from chewing an eighteenth piece of meat.

“Prince Pendragon, there is something I must tell you,” she feigned heartbreak, taking a tissue to wipe fictional tears in her perfectly made-up eyes. “Have you heard of a young boy called Merlin?”

Arthur changed his attitude, suddenly putting the fork in his plate, his eyes getting wide in excitement and lit up by endearment. “Yes, I do! He is indeed a charming young man.”

Morgana glared at him, completely unamused nor interested. “I would not say charming actually.”

“But, your Highness, he has quite unique white skin.”

“Yeah, that’s called lack of C vitamin because he never gets out of his room.”

“But your Highness, his hair is of a shining black that perfectly balances his complexion!”

“I too have shining black hair, it’s not that special.”

“But… your Highness, his eyes… they are so blue, like a summer cloudless sky!”

“IT’S CALLED DEPIGMENTATION, IT’S NOT THAT ATTRACTIVE!”

Arthur made a fearful face at the merciless queen. She scarily fast regained poise and smiled innocently. “So. You do know him after all.”

“I do, we danced together at the ball.”

“MRRHM yes I know,” she contained her wrath. “Well, I have bad news about him.”

The blonde prince dramatically listened, truly concerned by the fate of the raven-haired boy. “What happened, your Highness? Is he well?”

“No, my dear, he is not… Have you heard of _schizophrenia_?”

“What?”

“Anyway, it’s a disease. The poor man was… completely mad. He speaks with animals and wanders around in the woods. He thought he was a forest nymph or silly things like those. I know this may come off as difficult for you to endure, but you danced with a mentally deficient.”

Arthur felt outraged a little. “Your Highness, with all due respect, this is disrespectful to people with mental health issues. Furthermore, Merlin appeared particularly of sound mind when I met him. Moreover, why did you use the past tense to speak of him?”

“Ah, that. It’s because he’s dead.”

 

The blonde theatrically got up, almost spilling his beverage and the content of his plate. “I beg your pardon?!”

“Well, yes, do you think we raise up black flags for fun? No! It doesn’t go with the rest of the colours. Merlin is dead. Poor child. He was so young, but so retarded.”

“But… but… h-how is this possible? Not later than yesterday evening I…”

“You will have to accept the truth, prince Pendragon. Merlin is long gone, and maybe it is time to move on. You can start a new life, and I will gladly advise you,” Morgana stated, proud of herself. As she was even getting closer, Agravaine barged in, only wearing pants, almost crying. Morgana was horrified.

“My Queen, we have a problem!!!”

“No shit, what the hell happened? How dare you disturb this meal in such an outfit!” she roared, out of her mind.

“It is not my fault, my queen, I have been attacked!”

Arthur, who had been proceeding to get down on his seat, got up again even more violently than before, spilling his drink as Morgana took her head in her hands. “By whom, sir?!” he barked.

“The bandits in the woods!” Agravaine answered, while gesturing to show the height of a dwarf with his hand.

“ _THE_ bandits?” Arthur repeated, making the same gesture, unamused.

“Them!” the other pointed at him. Morgana was still facepalming.

“Your Highness, this is intolerable. I will go fetch my sword, and some of your men will go with me. I am going to settle my accounts with those forsaken giant dwarves tomorrow at dawn,” the blonde solemnly declared, already leaving the table as the queen vainly tried to hold him back. As he left the room, she turned in her seat to face Agravaine.

“I hope you are proud of yourself, you bogie-eating lickspittle!”

 

***

 

                “Yoohoo, it’s us! Where are you birdie?” Gwaine roared while entering the wooden house, followed by six little figures. The ones further in the queue smelt something good. As for Gwaine, he had stopped in the middle of the room.

Merlin was waiting for them: he had found a few rags to wear, that is to say Percival’s too large pants with one shirt quite open since it didn’t fit entirely, and had put on heavy brown boots they probably had found in the woods. Finally, he loved a little red scarf that he chose to brighten the outfit, and to hide his bare chest appearing from underneath the too small shirt. But most importantly, he had managed to tinker with the fire and the big kettle to prepare them a soup, as a token of his gratitude, and had set the table for lunch.

“Wow, did you do all that?” Leon questioned. The raven-haired boy smiled, nodding.

“I thought you might be hungry, and now we’re even.”

“You seem talented, thanks!” Elyan cheered.

Gwen thanked him too and they all got down on the ground to eat, except for Gwaine who was already in front of his plate. They all shared an agreeable meal, and even Mordred seemed happy.

“So, what did you do while I was here?” Merlin asked, curious.

“Erm, we went to work,” Percival shot between two mouthfuls. Gwen stared at him.

“Work? What kind of work do you have?”

“It’s complicated, Merlin,” she told him. The boy frowned.

“Ah, really…? You know, I am not stupid, I can understand. Maybe you’re like… wholesalers? Or resellers? Or are there other things than objects in those bags?”

Mordred lifted his head. “You saw the bags?”

“Well, yeah, they’re quite large.”

“Cuz we had a good catch today,” Gwaine mumbled as he still had bread in his mouth. “A royal carriage, haha.”

Everyone, especially Gwen, glared at him in disapproval. Merlin sat back, his mouth ajar and his eyes widening.

“You are _thieves_?!!” he protested.

“It’s none of your business!” Mordred retorted.

“Actually, IT IS! Aren’t you ashamed?”

Lancelot spoke up. “Yeah, but it’s not anyone’s money. We attacked a royal carriage, so only the rich will miss their money. And I’m sure they got plenty more to console themselves!”

Merlin shook his head. “You don’t understand! You probably attacked someone who came to collect the taxes Morgana sets every day! This is the people’s money, and they need it!”

“Well, the people are not that cool either,” Percival shot. Gwen knew what was coming. Merlin was still confused and outraged, his brows frowned in indignation. “What do you mean, the people are not cool?”

Gwen spoke up to explain things. “We all had advisable jobs before. Butcher, teacher, chef, or doctor. But the thing is, we were marginalised, even if we were accepted before. I don’t know if you are aware of this since the Queen hates you that much, but she made a law that expelled the _undesirables_. Those with a defect, a flaw. And when they came to expel us, no one stood up for us, even if we were important to the community. They knew us, and yet they did nothing. So we thought that as people outside the law, it was now no need to respect it anymore. We only rob the rich, Merlin,” she concluded.

The raven-haired boy felt less furious than before, understanding those people’s pain. He too had been marginalised in his own way, even if he didn’t have a “visible flaw”.

“I did not know that, I am sorry.”

“Well, then let’s keep on eating now that things are clear,” Mordred interrupted. He was acclaimed by the others who were hungry and did not want to be reminded of painful memories. Only Merlin didn’t touch his plate.

“It is horrible, but it’s still the people’s money and theft is unfair!!!”  the boy shouted, suddenly getting up and running outside, gripping the bags of gold and sprinting towards the village.

“Hey! Come back, you asshole!”

“He stole our gold!”

“Let’s get him, guys!”

 

Except that they had little legs and Merlin arrived by far sooner than them at the village. He made his way to the official sign where there was a platform for important announcements, and gave the bags to the mayor who congratulated him. “My fellow comrades, our gold has returned!”

Everyone cheered for Merlin, crying in joy. The dwarves had only arrived in the village, out of breath and wound up like springs, ready to make Merlin regret what he had done. But instead, the raven-haired boy pointed at them in the crowd.

“Those lads right there are the one who saved your money! They fought and fought the carriage to get it back, for you!”

The people’s cheering changed, and everyone hugged and thanked the dwarves. Merlin was delighted, and they even gave them some of the money as a reward. When they all got home, the Seven Deadly Sins recognised that Merlin was a great person, and they gladly all got along.

“You can stay with us as much as you want, Merlin,” Gwen said after a brief council.

“Thank you everyone, I appreciate that.”

“ _But_ ,” the brown-haired woman continued, “you’ll have to live by certain standards. We have rules here. So if you want to stay here, you’ll have to become a thief like us.”

“But I just told you that-“

“You told us that we shouldn’t rob the people, but that doesn’t mean there’s no one else to rob!” Leon said smugly. Merlin was astonished, and then smiled as well, his head full of ideas.

“So, you want to rob the Queen?”

Gwen looked at him mischievously, and Gwaine’s face lit up with a radiant smile.

“Look at you, you can’t wait to do that!”

Merlin looked at him, with playful glee in his ocean eyes.

“I must admit that… I am tempted. Do you mind being the Seven Deadly Sins Plus One?”

“Not at all, if you’re a quick learner.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves are here! And it's Gwen who leads them!   
> I included Mordred because I needed someone to play the sceptic role, and he was good. As for Arthur, I know he looks and sounds a bit dumb, but it's funny. Finally, I absolutely love to write Morgana as a cold and ruthless sassy queen, she has the best lines.   
> I saw all the kudos and hits, and I am really flattered and glad you like this! Thank you!


	4. Time to choose a side

Prince Pendragon didn’t show it, but he was growing tired of this abnormal kingdom full of strange people and ruled by giant-dwarfish accordions thieves. On top of that, the only person he appreciated was now gone, suddenly caught in death’s unfair embrace. He hadn’t had much time to get to know him, but the few minutes he had spent with the raven-haired man had brightened his life. He chose to focus on his revenge rather than to feel sorry for himself.

It was indeed early in the morning, and the sky was less blue than usual; it was tainted in white, mirroring the snow in the woods. Prince Pendragon was also tired of seeing snow everywhere. His heavy black cape flowing in the air, he crossed the forest on a galloping grey horse that displayed a hunting gear. Five men were with him, also armed. The horses’ hooves made a thumping sound in the snow, making the ground tremble.

 

               

                Merlin was exhausted. He had trained all day and had only gotten a little night of sleep. The dwarves were already getting on his nerves, endearingly yes, but still annoying as hell, especially at dawn.

“Lancelot has noticed something this morning!” Gwen shouted. “Apparently, royal guards are approaching the forest. And according to him, they’re after us.”

“Don’t give a damn,” Gwaine shot. “Let them come, it’ll be funny. Plus it’ll be good training for birdie right here,” he designed Merlin, who was astounded.

“Wait, wait, me? I can’t go with you, I’m not ready!”

“You are,” Percival affirmed. “Wanna know why? Because you hate the queen more than anyone. Spite is very important in a fight. More than skills.”

The boy seemed to be thinking about it. Yes, he had trained when he was younger at the castle, like all princes did, and had a few bases in fencing, but they were a bit outdated since Morgana had locked him up in his room. But yesterday’s training was a good way to catch up with what he had missed, and the dwarves were fierce trainers. He had doubts, but he also wanted to try something and fight for what he believed in.

“Alright, I’ll come with you.”

The dwarves cheered, and Elyan moved forward. “You need better war clothes, though. In which you are at ease. And you will choose your weapon of choice.”

“O-Okay.”

The black man, along with his thoughtful sister, found elegant battle clothes for the newbie. They chose a dark blue fitting shirt, on which they added a thin black leather jacket and a scarf with which he could hide his face. No one should recognise him at first. Merlin then wore black trousers along with dark boots, and a cape. He really looked like a bandit, which was quite the opposite image he wanted to show. But deep down, he really enjoyed playing the bad boy for once in his life, especially if he could defeat the evil queen. As for the weapon, Merlin chose to hide his precious dagger, that was offered to him by his mother, as well as a long sword that looked like what they used to train at the castle.

They were all ready for the attack. The dwarves set up a plan, grinning, and put on their accordions boots.

***

 

                Arthur was looking regal on his horse launched to full galop, his golden hair standing out in the whiteness of the forest and his cape undulating behind him. It was the perfect image for a slow-motion. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette kneeling in the snow, standing in his way. The blonde pulled on the reins strongly, startled, and the horse reared a little. Pushing his cape dramatically in one swift gesture, he threw his leg on the side and jumped off his mount. He kept his hand on his sword, suspicious, but did not unsheathe it, moving closer to the mysterious figure.

“Reveal yourself!”

The silhouette was covered by a cape, and sounded miserable. Arthur only heard mutters and complaints like “ _oh no, I am getting old, it is hard for me to get up_ ” or “ _my apples have fallen_ ”. Indeed, it was carrying a basket of apples that had been dropped and had spilled the fruits. The blonde prince rushed to the silhouette in his great kindness, ready to gather the apples, unaware that he wanted to help a bait.

“Are you okay? I can help you!”

The silhouette turned around, showing its face. That was part of the plan. Merlin appeared underneath the hood and almost immediately jumped back in shock. Arthur mirrored his action.

“ _YOU_?!”

“YOU?!” the blonde roared.

“What are you doing here?” the raven-haired boy asked, wondering why Arthur was with Morgana’s royal guards. It made no sense.

“I could ask you the same!!! You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Who the hell told you that?”

“At the palace, they-”

“You’re with the _queen_?!” Merlin strangled himself with outrage. He could not believe such treason.

Just as Arthur was trying to make up something, the guards arrived behind him, like backup. At the same moment, the dwarves leapt behind Merlin, ready to attack. The blonde made a memorable face, that fell midway between indignation, stupor and trauma.

“You’re with the _dWarVes_?!”

“I have no order to receive from you!!!”

“You’re a traitor!”

“And you’re a prick!”

Merlin threw his cape aside, as Arthur wielded his sword. The guards started fighting with the dwarves, who easily had the advantage on them, jumping over their heads and making them trip miserably. Gwen threw a sword that landed right into Merlin’s gloved hand, a fierce look on his face. He was boiling with anger. How could the only person he trusted right away betray him this way? Worse, by joining the queen? What had they done together? If he liked her so much, if he had joined her stupid army financed by the poor people’s money, why didn’t he marry her?!

The raven-haired boy leapt forward to attack the blonde, who wore a surprised but smug expression on his insufferable face. His sword flew towards the arrogant man, who light-heartedly dodged every blow. With an unbelievable easiness and talent, almost bored, Arthur countered Merlin’s incessant strikes. He almost turned his back while fighting, and the unskilled thief saw a blatant yawn on his opponent’s face. This was the epitome of humiliation. Merlin fulminated.

“You really want to keep this going? I mean, it’s entertaining, but the joke is only good if it lasts little,” the blonde shot, chuckling.

“What’s the joke?! Your life?”

Arthur laughed his heart out. “Wow, I did not know you were that aggressive. Is coming back from the dead that painful?”

“I guess Morgana is the one who told you I was dead?!” Merlin shouted, still sending his sword through what he hoped were the man’s ribs. Unfortunately, the blonde was yet again having the time of his life, fighting what probably was the weakest adversary he ever had since he was born.

“Indeed. She also told me you were crazy,” he added, while dodging an umpteenth blow.

“If crazy means _human_ ,” Merlin breathed in between two strikes, “then I’m glad to be like that!”

Arthur refrained himself from laughing too. After all, it was not because he was moderate in his relationship to the queen that he appreciated her. George had warned him that she was kind of obsessive and a bit frightening. But the blonde just had the time of his life to see Merlin in such a troubled state. He had completely forgotten his dear friends the dwarves.

Merlin had been moving backwards, slightly tripping when his boot met a sharp piece of rock. He turned around and saw that he was at the edge of a little bluff, with a glade below. There was about two or three meters to jump to land below, and the raven-haired boy was trapped. And he was not going to drop his bloody sword in front of his current arch-nemesis. A bit sloppily, he jumped, still agile for his physiognomy. He landed in a forward roll, his charcoal hair full of snow, and got up immediately, keeping his eyes on the blonde prince who looked at him from atop the bluff. Arthur shrugged, his unbearable cocky smile still on. He detached his cape, threw it on Merlin in a flirty manner, and proceeded to gracefully jump like a cat, executing a perfect summersault. His shining burgundy boots slammed the snow, and he remained straight as a pole, proud of himself. “I guess we’ll keep having fun, then.”

“You’re easily entertained, you prat,” Merlin shot under his breath.

“What did you say?! Did you call me a _prat_?! Me, prince Pendragon?”

They continued fencing, swords clashing in a metallic noise. Arthur still had the advantage and easily sent Merlin packing wherever he wanted, blocking his blows and trapping him. At one point, the raven-haired man tried direct offensive by rushing to the blonde with his sword pointed at his chest. His opponent turned around fantastically fast to dodge it and rolled up his wrist to make the other drop his weapon. The sword flew in the air, and Arthur caught it effortlessly. He was now doubly armed as if Merlin didn’t have enough difficulties in life.

“Come on, enough playing. You should be punished for what you’ve done,” the blonde gloated. But Merlin didn’t concede defeat that easily. He ran to the side to try to catch his sword smoothly and… maybe sneakily. He used the tree in front of him to act. Obviously, Arthur saw him, and put the sword against his throat. He made a “ _tss”_ sound of disapproval. “Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. Will you ever learn?”

And he slapped the other’s arse with the other sword.

“OUCH! What the hell is wrong with you?!” The raven-haired boy yelled before running to the opposite direction to reiterate his plan. It failed pathetically and he found himself “ _spanked_ ” a second time. “AOUCH! _Asshole_!!!”

“I told you you needed to be punished, and you speak filthily!” Arthur retorted. But he didn’t want to end such a funny duel right now. He threw back a sword so that Merlin could catch it. This was the peak of humiliation for the man who threw himself on the blonde, going crazy. Arthur dodged for the gazillionth time the blow, and linked his arm under Merlin’s. He wrapped himself around him smoothly, sliding behind the dark-haired boy’s back, and blocked his movement, mirroring the previous dance they had together.

“Do you remember this?” the blonde said with a lower voice, trying to be seductive.

“And do you remember this?!”

Merlin lifted his foot and violently stomped on Arthur’s. The other jerked backwards, letting out a pained moan. The raven-haired boy regained his position in front of the blonde.

“You really need to work on anger management,” the prince laughed, ignoring the pain. This time, he was the one to attack, and Merlin tried somehow or other to counter the blows, but was outrun. Once again, Arthur made him turn around ridiculously, like in a ball, and executed a fancy movement. He held tight onto the other, and bent towards the ground, Merlin powerlessly following the unwanted dance. He could only cling onto Arthur to not fall flat on the snow, having lost all of his balance. The blonde prince’s face was thirty centimetres away from his, looking deep into the famous ocean eyes.

“You really have fantastic eyes, even when you’re angry.”

Merlin’s blood rushed to his ears, confused. He abruptly tried to hit Arthur on the side with his sword, that was blocked by Arthur’s instantly. “If you were not trying to stab me right now, I would be tempted to kiss you.”

The blonde’s attitude was deeply troubling him: he no longer knew if he was on Morgana’s side, or if he appreciated the young boy, or if he only used the queen to get his revenge against the dwarves. In that moment, he could only glance at his sharp jaw and his gentle blue eyes, illuminated by his golden hair.

“I guess I better keep trying, then!” Merlin retorted, not knowing where to look. He freed himself from an unfortunately pleasant but inappropriate embrace, falling on the ground. He ran in the prince’s opposite direction, fleeing from him. Arthur sighed.

“Do I scare you that much that you’re running away every time we meet?” he declared theatrically, alone in the snow. Merlin was looking for a solution, and how to get rid of this excruciating prince. He thought for a second, glancing at the horses parked behind Arthur. There was an enormous tree full of snow next to them, and its branches covered the surface where they stood. Merlin looked at the blonde, the tree, and the horses, calculating something. It was useless fighting with swords against Arthur. He picked up a stone lying nearby. The dwarves, observing the show from afar, were debating whether they should help him or not in this fight. They chose to let him get out of the situation on his own.

“Oh, _please_. Are you going to try to knock me out?” Arthur mocked, giggling. “Enough playing, dear. Surrender and I’ll give you a merciful kiss.”

“Mark my words in this empty head of yours. I WILL NOT SURRENDER.”

“You really are one of a kind, _Merlin_.” He said the last bit with amazement.

The raven-haired boy fiercely threw the stone that flew two meters past the blonde’s head. It struck the branch above the horses full of snow.

“Not only aren’t you able to wield a sword, but you can’t even throw. How did you survive that long?” Arthur mocked, looking at his side. Except that the branch had dropped heavy cold snow on the horses’ croups, something they really disliked. One of the horses stampeded, projecting his hooves behind itself, and whacked the blonde arrogant prince in his back, launching him across the snow and knocking him half-unconscious. Merlin made his way to him, a satisfied grin on his face for the first time. He kneeled next to Arthur.

“Too bad you are quite cute, because this is going to hurt your pretty face,” he said.

And he punched him, as the dwarves cheered in the background.

***

 

 

                “You need to stop presenting yourself undressed, Prince Pendragon.”

Morgana looked at the stripped man, refraining herself from drowning in despair. He had lost to _dwarves_ , thieves, giant little people… whatever. The queen was riddled with humiliation. She was really reconsidering her marriage with this wanker of a prince, only attracted to the wealth that went hand in hand with it. What an idiot.

“Your Highness, your men and my… skills appeared to be insufficient in this… fight,” Arthur mumbled, ashamed of himself and frustrated to have lost. But he hadn’t lost to anyone. It had been _Merlin_ against him. “Also… it would appear that your lovely servant Merlin is still alive and well, since he was leading the gang of dwa- thieves.”

 

Morgana, who was busy pinching the bridge of her nose in distress, suddenly lifted her head. Her black locks flew in the air as her pale blue eyes widened in disbelief, almost bloodshot. Her hand was frozen next to her face, as if she had been put under a powerful spell.

“What did you say?”

Her tone made everyone shiver with fear in the hall, including Arthur, who was prey to an intense inner conflict. He started weighing the two opinions, the two different speeches. Morgana had told him that Snow White _AKA_ Merlin was crazy and dead; yet he came back from it and led a gang of dwarves. He also had punched him in the face thoroughly, without mercy. But Merlin had told him that the queen lied and hated him, and was treacherous enough to manipulate anyone. This kingdom was resolutely weird and chaotic.

“I… have been defeated by _Merlin_ , who led the… gang. So, it would seem that he is not… as dead as you thought he would be.”

The black-haired woman did not move, not even an eyelash, her cold gaze stuck on the ground. Then she abruptly got up, causing a general startling, and left. Meanwhile, Gaius approached Arthur with this time real clothes, grinning at him.

 

 

                “Mirror mirror, on the wall,” Morgana breathed in her active pace. She did not stop to rush into the glass surface, who melted under the spell as she plunged into it like grey water. She joined the pavilion and saw her reflection appear once again.

“What is this? _Tell me_ , what happened?” she shouted in anger. She took a vase on a table to violently throw it on the ground, making an astounding shattering noise. Her emotion showed a stark contrast with the stillness and the calm of her wiser reflection.

“It would seem that your plan did not go as planned.”

“And HOW could this happen?! I wanted him _dead_ , that’s not the end of the world! Why am I so unlucky?” she almost whined.

“Please do remember that you did not kill him. You only gave the order.”

Morgana turned around slowly, struck by realisation. She was trembling with ire, her clear eyes still wide open. “ _Gaius_ ,” she breathed the almost inaudible name. The reflection said nothing, but did not think less. “I have been betrayed. I have been betrayed in my own castle, in my own kingdom,” she repeated.

“One can only be sure of one’s work when one does it oneself.”

“That’s too many ones. But I get it. I’ll do everything by myself now, since I cannot count on anyone. And I’ll turn Gaius into a cockroach.” She then faced the reflection with aplomb, regaining poise. “I want this damned Snow White dead and buried, and I want to marry the prince. I’ll use the same potion that I put in Hunith’s drink. Do it for me.”

“I’ve run out of this potion.”

“Then take another that has the same effects!”

“You must know that the price of magic is very high, Morgana.”

“I DON’T CARE!!! DO IT!!!”

The screeching resonated in the pavilion, almost breaking the mirrors. “Fine. Be ready to pay.”

***

 

 

                Arthur made his way to the chambers in the luxurious castle. He was used to such adornments and gold, but here, in this kingdom, they had a pronounced taste for gaudiness and kitsch. Dressed in a simple ample white blue shirt and dark pants, he knocked on gigantic golden doors already half-opened.

“Yes?” a soft womanly voice called.

“It is I, prince Pendragon, your Highness. You had me called?”

“Of course, yes, please enter and make yourself at home!”

Morgana’s silhouette appeared in the man’s vision field, clothed in an elegant sugar-rose dress, with transparent areas that suggested her ivory skin and a wide cut on the shoulders. Her hair was loose, topped with a light golden tiara. She showed the way in and made sure the two of them sat on a comfortable beige couch.

“I am truly sorry to have appeared so shaken this afternoon,” she began. “I was so certain that illness had taken away my dear Merlin that I… I… did not know how to react. The pain you feel when you lose a loved one, it’s… incommensurable, and unique. I believe you unfortunately experienced this feeling before, didn’t you?”

Arthur nodded, miserably falling into the trap. “Indeed. I lost my mother when I was a child.” Morgana nodded in turn, to pretend being interested in what the prince was saying, and changed the subject.

“But don’t you think this situation is worse? Merlin is not dead, but he is batshit crazy.”

“Well, he-erm… did not seem _that_ crazy earlier. He was just… on the dark side. But he remained unchanged,” the blonde said dreamily. Morgana stifled a guffaw, snorting because of the prince’s stupidity.

“Yes, I guess he also was as white as snow, with his raven hair, and his cloudless sky ocean blue eyes, whatever. I’m sorry to break it to you, but the Merlin you knew is gone. He chose his side. Poor child, that’s how it is when your famous mother disappears and your father dies. You grow mentally unstable,” she feigned sympathy.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, unable to follow the timeline. Merlin was a servant, wasn’t he?

“Ah. He probably lied to you about this,” Morgana jumped on the occasion to add to the pile. “Maybe he got confused with his servant identity, one of the many personalities he owns. But actually Merlin is the son of Hunith, my stepbrother.”

Arthur sat back in amazement, his mouth ajar. He did not know what to do with this information. That meant they had both lied to each other? But had Merlin seen through his lies?

“The son of Hunith, the benevolent queen?”

“Indeed. May she rest in peace. This family may well be cursed. Shall we drink to honour their memory?” the queen asked.

“Hum, yes, but Merlin is not dead.”

“Shall we drink to honour _HUNITH’S_ memory, then?” she tried again. Arthur responded positively to the request, being the dumbass that he was.

“You are right. We should, and we shall,” he said a bit solemnly.

Morgana got up to take two cups standing on a wooden table, one golden and one silver. As she walked towards Arthur graciously, carrying the drinks, the blonde got up to take the golden cup. The queen took away the cup in one swift movement.

“No dear, gold is _my_ colour.”

And the prince nodded in a considerate way, thus taking the silver cup. They looked at each other, Arthur unsuspecting, Morgana smirking, and drank their respective beverages. He glanced at her, savouring the liquid, and opened his mouth to say something. Before collapsing to the ground in a thump.

Morgana jumped around like an overexcited little girl, putting her cup which only contained vodka on the cupboard. She took a look at her appearance in one of the many mirrors, studying her long legs hidden by the pink fabric and playing with her heavy black hair. Then, she sat again on the couch, waiting.

Arthur started to wiggle on the ground. His nostrils were the first thing to move, smelling the floor he had been sleeping on. Then he violently opened his eyes, as if he was possessed by some kind of cocaine-addicted leprechaun, and pushed himself off the ground with a fantastic vigour. Morgana almost jumped.

“Mrhm, prince Pendragon…?” she hesitantly asked.

The blonde turned around in a second to focus on the woman, who suddenly appeared to be the love of his life. He threw himself on her, as her yell was akin to an ogre’s, and started to speak so fast that she barely could understand what he was mumbling.

“My queen! My queen! My mistress!”

Except that it did not go further than that. He remained on top of her as she was desperately trying to get him off the bloody couch, almost kicking his crotch. The blonde sat back patiently, and started to pant mouth open, tongue out, like a… _dog_. Morgana stared at him, frowning.

“What the fuck is this?”

She reached for the table next to the couch, still laying down, to grasp the potion vial. She looked at the label like someone looks at the manual of something that isn’t working, and sighed. The label displayed an adorable image of a puppy.

“ _Puppy_ … Love?” she read, not having seen the first part. Her bloody reflection got her beat on the buy. “Oh my God, what am I ever going to do with a stupid dog? Can you even speak normally?”

She glared at the blonde prince who was still waiting for an order at the other end of the couch, hands between his crossed legs. Desperate, she sighed.

“Do you love me?”

Arthur got overexcited, eyes lit up by some kind of extraordinary affection. “YES I DO! I do, I love you so much, I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, I love you! I will never leave you!”

Morgana got taken aback by this speech, and remained motionless, suddenly fascinated by the prince. Maybe this was still going to work. Such words would largely do at a wedding. So she beamed with glee, fortune smiling to her slowly, but surely. As this brat was once again throwing himself onto her, she threw something off the balcony, ordering the him to go fetch, like the brainless dog he had become.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, Arthur, and Arthurian-cycle students/lovers. This story is kind of degrading for everyone, anyway.   
> Thanks again for the kudos, it means a lot to me!


	5. A righteous abduction

 

                Merlin was enjoying a well-deserved meal with the dwarves after their successful theft, which was a nice message sent to the Queen. She had to be careful, because he was alive and determined to make her fall. Sitting on a comfy cushion on the ground, at the edge of the long wooden table that gathered the seven companions, the raven-haired boy smiled and laughed at random jokes thrown during the general conversation. They were savouring a delicious beef stew with potatoes, as the chimney produced an agreeable warmth.

“Well, I know a wanker that got his ass kicked, right Merlin?” Gwaine shot, proud of the newbie.

“Yeah, he coped with the situation quite well,” Leon added.

“Even if you need to work on your sword skills,” Mordred retorted, eager to seize the slightest occasion to criticise the young man. Merlin did not miss this comment and straightened his back, ready to answer fiercely.

“I’ll have you know that it’s been 24 hours that I am a thief. Plus, Arthur is a… competent swordsman. I am not almighty,” he shot back. The dwarves, Gwen in particular, nodded in agreement.

“That’s right, and did you know that he is a prince?” the brown-haired woman asked.

Some of the dwarves gasped, but Merlin simply shook his head, smiling. “Yes, I did know that. He tried to hide his identity, but I knew he was lying.”

Gwaine glared at Gwen, a bit frustrated that the raven-haired man always got dreamy and shy and a bit rosy on the ears when he talked about this prick of a blonde dumb head. Gnawing on the beef, he looked at Lancelot.

“So Lance, any news?”

The man lifted his head from his plate, focused on his soup until then. He seemed to be thinking a bit, and his eyes lit up suddenly. “Ah, yes, speaking of him, if you like gossip, I’ve got something for you.”

“YEAH!”

“Come on, tell us!”

“Did you hook up with Gwen at last?”

There was a quick awkward silence as Lancelot ignored Percival’s stupid question to tell what he had heard. “It may just be a rumour, but that would seem logical. I heard that prince Pendragon, the man we faced this morning, will marry the queen Morgana!”

Everyone yelled in astonishment, and made hearty laughs, only half-surprised that such a thing would happen. They all made low-intellect requiring jokes, involving the queen’s numerous lovers, and roasted Arthur just like a chicken thigh. Everyone, except Merlin. Suddenly absorbed by his wooden spoon, letting the stew drip from it, his vibrant blue eyes were stuck in the emptiness of betrayal. He was neither laughing, nor insulting the prince. He simply felt a deep, well-entrenched heartache that twisted his guts and left a pungent taste in his mouth. Of course, his face stood out in the merry dwarfish atmosphere, and soon enough his mates became sufficiently alert to inquire as to what was happening to him. Elyan was the only one who was not as oblivious as the others, facepalming.

“What’s wrong with you, Snow?” asked Percival, genuinely not understanding what was happening. Merlin put down the spoon slowly, and looked into Lancelot’s eyes.

“Is he really going to marry Morgana?”

The man who had brought the news suddenly felt guilty. “Erm… it would appear so… My sources are generally reliable.”

Gwaine hit the boy’s shoulder. “It’s okay Merlin, I’m here with you!”

“No offense Gwaine, but I don’t think he has the same relationship with you and with the blonde guy,” Mordred shot, clearing things up. The cocky dwarf’s jaw dropped.

“You like that dude???” he almost strangled himself. Evidently, Merlin remained quiet, but his reddening cheeks gave him away as most of the table gasped.

“But you two fought earlier?”

“You even punched him!”

“I’m sure you kicked his ass harder than anyone else’s!”

The man, now trying to avoid eye contact with seven inquiring little people, was glancing at the potatoes with an unknown fascination. Elyan spoke up, aware of Merlin’s distress.

“Leave him alone, guys, and let’s eat. If you want some time alone, go get some fresh air, Snow White.”

And after thanking the black man with a meaningful azure look, Merlin got up and rushed to the door, needing to think about the situation. Alone. The quiet protests and exclamations at the table soon became distant, as the boy closed the wooden door and gazed into the winter night.

Not so long ago, he had felt terrified in this forest, in the dark, abandoned by everyone. But now, his fear had transformed into a dreadful feeling of anger, revenge, jealousy and betrayal. True, he felt more confident, and was no longer afraid, so he was ready to fight Morgana. And he would not hesitate to beat that asshole of a prince too. But if she married Arthur, that meant he agreed to it too! Thoughts ran through his mind, and Merlin attempted to link the obvious special moment he and the blonde prince shared during their fight, and Arthur’s wedding with the person he abhorred most on earth. How was this possible? How?

                As his tormented soul lingered over the most painful event the boy had been through after his mother’s disappearance, a thundering noise was heard. The sound of wood breaking, almost exploding under a violent blow. Merlin abruptly turned around to glance at the house, and his eyes grew wide open in fear.

A giant dummy made of wood and magic bent over the dwarves’ house, a hammer in his artificial fists, and proceeded to destroy their home. Distant cries and yells could be heard from inside the house, as the dwarves relentlessly tried to face the way-too-tall opponent. Unable to believe his eyes and frozen in astonishment, Merlin remained on his spot. There could be only one explanation. Dark magic.

 

_Wait a minute…_

That was it! How could Arthur abandon him in any other way, then? And Merlin had seen Morgana propel him and Gaius out of her chambers with a wave of a black fluid. Putting aside his own issues, he rushed to the wall to jump on it, unsheathing his sword. He caught a glimpse of the scene inside the walls, and it was an utter disaster. The giant hammer had crushed beds, chairs and other hand-crafted pieces of furniture, leaving only pointy shards on the carpet he loved so much. The mezzanine was almost reduced to a pile of broken wood, as it had crumbled in the middle with everything that was on it. The meal they were having was spilled everywhere, as Gwaine desperately tried to finish his plate of potatoes, Percival pulling him aside when the dummy hit. Gwen was hardly succeeding to weaken the horrid magic-controlled creature by throwing things at it, and Lancelot helped her as much as he could, sawing the wooden foot. The others tried to hide under the remaining beds, terrified.

Merlin wanted to do something, but the dummy was huge. It stood up through the open hole of the chimney that overlooked the moon, stomping on the house. As the raven-haired boy ran on the roof, gripping branches and lifting himself on top, he discerned something in the night. Only lit up by the moon glow, strings were attached to the dummy, at the base of his neck. Merlin took some steps back, estimating the distance between the edge he was on, the chimney hole and edge in front of him, and ran towards the dummy. He leaped into the night, the adrenaline pushing him towards his limits, and wielded his sword gracefully. Jumping above the creature’s head, he cut through the air and heard the satisfying sound of strings being sliced. The man curled up to land on the other edge of the wooden roof, as the dummy suddenly lost all of his vitality and his life, collapsing inside the house already ravaged by it. The dwarves, gathered in the living room on its “corpse”, immobilised by fright, spotted the pale complexion with charcoal hair, with blue highlights under the moon.

“Are you all okay?” Merlin screamed, panting.

“Y-Yeah, we are, thanks to you,” Gwen muttered.

 

 

                In the pavilion, Morgana’s reflection opened her eyes. The dummy she was controlling with strings in her hand had fallen flat on the ground. She took a look at the severed strings, tilting her head in curiosity.

“Snow White…” she murmured to herself, her supernatural voice resonating in the room. “I guess we are no longer sure of who is the fairest of them all…”

***

 

                The place where they celebrated the wedding was breath-taking. It was an endless expanse of thick ice, crowned by snowy mountains; and in the middle of it, hundreds of sumptuous tents had been set up, as flowers and silvery decorations had been specially brought for the occasion. The main tent, of a deep blue and adorned with golden patterns, sheltered the ceremony with the main guests, nobles from the whole country, all dafty dressed in eyes-hurting vivid colours. The prince Arthur was standing in the middle of those high officials and well-born, refraining himself from walking on four feet and smelling guests from one moment to another. His tongue was still sticking out of his mouth, a token of his excitement, as he panted like a puppy, according to what he had drunk. His wonderful red and golden outfit in a military style was yet insufficient to restore his dignity to the eyes of onlookers. The guests were glaring at him and staring at him in confusion, wondering where Morgana had fetched her new boytoy.

                Morgana was taking her time, getting ready at the castle, donning a dress more magnificent than any other she had ever worn, entirely made of crystals, like solidified shiny tears. As she let out a frightening yell when one of the servant tightened the corset, Gaius was looking at her with wrath.

“Dear God, I’m so excited, I love weddings! Who knew I’d be in one someday?” she chirped.

“Yes, who knew indeed,” the physician grumbled.

“What is it Gaius? Are you angry? Speak louder!” she feigned ignorance. “Do not tell me that your unfortunate misadventure as a cockroach took away your voice!”

“Your Highness, you reign will come to an end, and I will gladly enjoy your downfall when it occurs.”

The servants remained quiet, but thought the same.

“Mh, careful Gaius, or next time you’ll turn into a beetle. Now the shoes, quick!” she ordered at a woman. “I cannot wait to get married, look stunning, and roll naked in money.”

***

                Gwaine woke up, still sleepy, after taking a nap in a bed of debris. He made his way to the fridge which was somehow spared by the precedent disaster. He found pancakes, which made him radiate with joy, and a note on top of it, who made him lose his smile instantly.

“G-Guys guys guys! Come!”

The dwarves gathered around Gwaine. He had trouble to read, so Gwen took the note in her tanned hands. Lancelot put his chin on her shoulder.

“My dear friends…” she began. “It’s a letter from Merlin?! Where is he?”

“Keep reading!”

She cleared her throat and read. “ _My dear friends. I am sorry to not be able to tell you this face-to-face, but I feel like I have bothered you enough. I am unbelievably grateful for everything you taught me, the way you’ve trained me, and the shelter you’ve provided me. I was abandoned by everyone I knew, and I found wonderful friends. But my very identity is still a threat to you all, as we saw it yesterday evening. I am persuaded that Morgana is targeting me with her magic, and you will pay an unfair price for sticking with me. Therefore, I must tell you goodbye, for I-_ hey, Gwaine, come back!”

The dwarf had been unable to hear the following words, flooded with sorrow. He had rushed to the door to open it, and fell on Merlin, prepared to leave. All the dwarves followed him in a little race and stopped in front of the snowy house, under the morning sun, watching their friend pack his things.

“What are you all doing here?” Merlin said, surprised, but softened. He wore a regretful smile.

“You can’t leave just like that!” cried out Gwaine, outraged, and soon joined by Percival.

“Yeah, we’re friends, friends don’t leave each other, they support each other!”

Mordred rolled his eyes at the comment, but deep down, he felt the same. He had grown fond of the newbie, just like everyone else. Gwen spoke up as the leader.

“They are right, why are you leaving without telling us anything? We won’t abandon you, you know!”

Merlin shook his head, closing his ocean eyes that were tearing up. “I know that very well, Gwen, and this is the problem. You are the closest friends I have ever had, and you won’t leave me, no matter how dangerous this gets. And I don’t want you to get hurt again because of me. You almost died yesterday!”

The dwarves protested altogether. “It’s because we were caught by surprise! And after all, you saved us,” noted Leon. “That means the least we can do is return the favour.”

“Furthermore, we want the queen gone as much as you do,” added Elyan.

“You entered the group, now you stay in it,” ordered Lancelot. He was hit by Gwen.

“Don’t say it like that, you sound like the leader of a cult.”

Merlin chuckled, overwhelmed by his friends’ support. Maybe they were right. Maybe he needed to fight Morgana with as many reliable people he could find. And the Seven Deadly Sins were trustworthy enough to go to the end’s world with him.

“And I can’t live without you!” Gwaine pleaded dramatically.

“That’s just because he cooks for us, isn’t it?” asked Mordred.

“Well, then… _we_ can’t live without you!”

                The raven-haired boy looked at each of them, detailing Gwen’s warm expression, Lancelot’s confident smile, Elyan’s wise pose, Gwaine and Percival’s saddened eyes, Leon and Mordred’s apparently imperturbable but sensitive spirit. He cared about them deeply, and had managed to go this far thanks to them.

“What do you want me to do, then?” he asked.

“Well, obviously, we can defeat the queen together!” Percival answered.

“And remember, you are well-trained, you can defend yourself,” Elyan said.

“ _And_ remember, the wedding is today at noon, and Morgana has your precious little prince,” Mordred shot, a smug smile on his face. Merlin strongly reacted to his comment.

“Hey! He’s… he’s not my prince! It’s just that the queen has magic and I’m pretty sure that he is held hostage and for the greater good I must-“

The dwarves waited for his answer, all eyes looking at him, already reddening.

“You must…?” Gwen inquired on a smile.

Merlin put down his bag in which he had gathered a few things, including his weapon. He straightened up, grabbing the sword and playing with it, eyes looking down. Then, he raised it to take a glance at the blade, lifting his eyelids, smiling in anticipation.

“Who wants to crash a wedding?”

***

 

                The guests were starting to get cold, as the queen was unbearably late, probably more preoccupied by her appearance than by punctuality. But the tent was still quite attractive, with its fluffy seats and its myriad of succulent appetisers. So they waited.

A mysterious guest still unnoticed made his way to the buffet, eating profusely. A woman adorned with an awful pink dress looked at him, confused but discreet. Although when she saw a hand emerge from his trousers, just at the fly’s level, grasping a chou bun, she screamed. Everyone turned their gaze on him, and were revealed an unexpected guest: three dwarves jumped from the costume, brandishing their swords and threatening the whole tent. A little cough was heard from behind. The guests turned around hastily, to look at their executor. Merlin appeared, dressed up to fight, with four dwarves behind him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a hold-up.”

***

 

                Morgana was overexcited in the royal carriage, looking absolutely stunning with her crystal dress and her tiara. Gaius was sitting in front of her, visibly wanting to die, but doing everything in his power to refrain himself from throwing the queen outside the carriage.

“No matter how many times this happens, I’m still so excited!” she beamed.

Gaius nodded. “No matter how many… How _old_ are you exactly?”

“Shut up Gaius.”

“Yes… your Highness.”

 

                The royal carriage arrived at the infamous place, the horses almost slipping on the ice. Morgana got down the stairs, lifting the crystal pleats of her white dress, a radiant smile on her perfect face. But as she moved closer to the main tent, she only saw flowers, jewellery arks and empty armchairs. The tent was closed, the thick blue curtains tied up in a golden knot and hiding everything inside it. Morgana turned to Gaius, by her side.

“What is this supposed to mean?” she wondered out loud, unsuspecting.

“Maybe you should take a look inside. It’s cold here, people might want to be warm,” the physician answered. He was welcomed by a death glare.

“If you are by any chance acquainted with a I-hope-not-annoying event, you know that I’ll have you beheaded.”

“I swear on my mother’s head that I know nothing.”

Morgana turned around, her black hair flowing in the air, and moved towards the tent with a supernatural vigour. She gripped the fabric of the curtains, untied the knot, and threw the material on her side. It revealed the totality of the guests, imprisoned in the tent, half-naked, and most importantly…

 _The prince was missing_.

“What is this supposed to mean?” Morgana trembled, her pink lip quivering.

“ _You_ tell us what this means, your _Highness_ ,” one of the high officials said, upset and flaunting a magnificent potbelly. Morgana was shaking, gripping her dress as if her life depended on it.

“Who did this to you? You surely have seen someone!”

Everyone glared at her, fed up with what she did not know, and said altogether in the same voice.

“MERLIN!”

 

                Gaius allowed himself a playful smile, gloating. He knew that if Morgana saw him, he’d die instantly. He could not see the queen’s face, but he probably should not. Because as for now, Merlin was going to endure the queen’s total and furious wrath.  

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best friends should at least abduct a prince together!  
> Thanks always for the kudos and hits!


	6. TLK (True Love's Kiss)

 

                They were back at the dwarves’ house, just in front of it, in the snow. And what was playing under Merlin’s eyes was frightful. Arthur had been tied up to a chair and gagged to prevent any stupid comment to come out of his mouth. He looked so helpless, shaking his arms frantically to try to pull off the gag, whining and moaning like an animal. Which he was, actually. His magnificent wedding costume contrasted with his nonchalant and bestial behaviour. The raven-haired boy wondered how once he could have appreciated who now looked like an utter brainless potato. He rolled his eyes and looked at the ever-white sky, not affected by the day’s fading. The Seven Deadly Sins were desperately trying to bring back the blonde to his (minimal) senses.

Gwaine had first tried to slap the prince’s face. Personal rancour or not, his hands flew on Arthur’s cheeks, producing a clapping noise that made everyone laugh. He even tried to punch him directly in the face since his technique was unfruitful. Arthur only coughed in pain, letting his head fall back, and lifted it again to cry.

“MY QUEEEEEEN! I MISS MY QUEEN AND THE EXQUISITE NECTAR OF HER SKIN!!!” he cried, bawling his eyes out. Merlin had trouble watching the scene, whereas Mordred was bent in two due to his uncontrollable laughing. Gwen frowned in confusion, just like Lancelot.

“So he’s like under some kind of dark spell?”

“Yes, I think so,” answered the brown-haired swordsman. “He must have drunk a potion that made him fall in love with the queen. She’s probably the one who did this.”

“Obviously she is,” Merlin shot, glaring at the blonde snivelling and very much wanting to hit him himself. Percival moved forward.

“Let me try something. Sometimes magic can be flushed out with loud noises.”

“ _Flushed out_?!” Merlin said. “And what do you mean by loud-“

                The heavyset man started to literally roar next to Arthur’s ear, making him jump in fear, and wince under the loudness of the scream. It was soon enough proved ineffective as Gwen put an end to this collective torture. After that, Mordred proposed to execute a rain dance that would bring the blonde back on earth, lighting up incense and dancing around the dumbstruck prince. Leon was the one to note that it was yet unsuccessful to wake Arthur from his enchanted and irritating slumber.

“It’s irreversible,” Merlin flat-out declared, crossing his arms in despair as he was leaning against the outside wall. The dwarves were losing hope too, watching the blonde weep with misery. He was still moaning to find his queen. Leon was massaging his slight ginger beard, caught in a deep reflexion. His eyes suddenly lit up, as if he had an epiphany.

“Wait, there is still a way!”

Everyone became more attentive, turning heads to look at the dwarf. “What are you suggesting?” Gwen wondered out loud.

“You know, in most fairy tales, spells are broken with a true love’s kiss,” he solemnly stated. Everyone gasped and cried out in frustration.

“Leon, if it’s to say cheesy things like those, you can put your plan up your ass!”

“At least propose something achievable!”

“I’m not kissing this brainless dog!”

                Merlin chuckled in embarrassment, shaking his head. The problem was that as the seconds passed, the others began to stare at him. _Urgently_. His radiant blue eyes widened in bewilderment.

“W-Why are you… looking at me?”

They sighed altogether, as if their brains were connected.

“You want a fucking drawing, Einstein?” Mordred shot.

“Who is Einstein anyway?!”

“It’s _you_! You’re the one who’s capable of waking him up!” explained Percival, slowly peaking things up but speaking for the rest. “You both like each other. If you want to break Morgana’s spell, you have to do true love’s kiss!”

“Percival, you don’t _do_ true love’s kiss. You execute it. It’s sacred, it’s a token of one of the most beautiful feelings. Love,” said Leon. “Therefore Merlin needs preparation.”

“ _PREPARATION?!_ ”

The raven-haired boy felt his ears turn red, as he was beginning to stutter. “What-wait-no, that’s not… I can’t… And I don’t want my first kiss to be like this!”

There was a silence.

“It’s your first kiss?!” Gwaine exclaimed. Merlin ignored him to return to the initial subject.

“I mean it’s barely a legend, why would it work? _Worse_ , what if that DOESN’T work?!”

“Well then you’ll just look stupid, like your idiot of a prince,” Mordred said. Gwen took a decision.

“Alright boys! Lancelot, you prepare Merlin, while we’ll be heading for the house with the dog-man.”

                Merlin was pushed inside the house, wearing an expression of betrayal and anxiety, the blush spreading from his ears to his cheeks. Soon he no longer saw his acolytes, and was alone with Lancelot. The dwarf started to take out what looked like _cosmetics_ and _make-up_.

“What the _hell_ are you doing, Lancelot?!”

He was obliged to sit down on a chair, as his friend began to talk. “I am making your first kiss memorable. Even if the situation is already quite historic.”

“I am not a girl, Lancelot, I don’t need make-up.”

“No gender is pretty enough to be exempted from wearing make-up,” the other shot. “And it’ll be light, don’t worry.”

He took a sort of brush, to apply it on the boy’s cheeks, who rubbed it off as soon as the other turned his back. He then took out a strawberry to taint his lips with the colour. Merlin licked them.

“Don’t do that, the taste will fade!” Lancelot ordered.

“The taste ?!”

 

 

                A few moments later, Arthur was alone in the centre of a destroyed and empty living room, a ray of light upon his face shining through the pierced wooden roof, still tightly bound to his chair with ropes. His gag had been taken off for obvious reasons. He was still crying and whining and moaning to see his queen. The ray of light emphasised his shining golden hair, shimmering like a wheat field bathed in sunlight, as his pale cyan eyes appeared even clearer than the most limpid fountain. His sumptuously red outfit, with golden patterns, had suffered a bit, as his jacket had been torn off; he looked helpless, covered in a white ample linen shirt. He had started from the top to hit rock bottom, at least physically.

That was not Merlin’s case. Slowly entering the wooden room with an unsteady gait, his attitude contrasted with his beauty, that embodied poise. He looked regal and yet didn’t feel like a king. His lips were slightly reddened, as the man had been struggling to take off the majority of Lancelot’s make-up. He wore a simple dark blue shirt, a colour that suited him, with black trousers and heavy boots. His unusually white skin, unlike the prince’s slightly tanned one, was almost glowing, overlooked by the infamous raven hair, as dark as the deepest moonless night. Light and dark charmingly mingled within him, and highlighted his complex person, a paradoxical character. Overly prudent, but courageous. Sarcastic, but thoughtful and considerate. Fearful of facing his destiny and his demons, but pushing others to achieve their own goals. A loner, yet longing to find a real family.

Of course, all that was completely invisible to Arthur’s blinded gaze. Still wriggling on his chair like a worm, desperately trying to free himself from his shackles, he murmured a few things as Merlin approached, shaking his head profusely.

“What… what do you want? Why are you looking at me like that?” he began softly, not at all reassured. “Help…? HELP! HELP PLEASE SOMEBODY SAVE MEEEEEE!!!” he continued 500 decibels louder, panicking like an actual in-danger-hostage.

Merlin was closing his eyes, his eyebrows puckering, convincing himself that the utter stupidity he was witnessing was all Morgana’s doing. Breathing slowly and managing his frustration, he moved closer to the prince.

“I just want to help you,” he started with a gentle voice, but still tainted with… jealousy. “You were not having this kind of conversation with me earlier. You know, for instance, in the forest.”

Arthur looked up, staring widely at the ocean eyes, unstable. “What do you mean, the forest?! And what matters is now! Now I love MY QUEEN!!!” he cried out, before going back into his usual weeping. Merlin once again contemplated Gwaine’s solution, that is to say a big slap in the face. He was beginning to be fed up with those stupid cries for help. Morgana was not going to get away with this.

Overwhelmed by frustration and irritation, and pain and heartache and jealousy and unhappy things like those, the raven-haired boy felt confidence rush through his body. He was going to try something, whether this prick of a prince liked it or not, and he was going to be a pain in Morgana’s ass. A _big one_. He took another step until he was directly facing Arthur, who found himself below, forcibly seated on the chair. Merlin cleared his throat.

“Erm… it would seem that there is no other chair, since your precious queen destroyed this house,” he declared solemnly, with resentment.

                Not questioning his following gesture that was about to be extremely unsettling for the both of them, he shook his head and his arms, as if he was preparing himself to fight. And he sat down on Arthur’s lap. The blonde had eyes like saucers, and threw his head back as the other comfortably sat on him.

“Wh-What WHAT aRe YoU dOiNg?!!!!” he strangled himself, shaking his head even more frantically and keeping it away from Merlin’s now-closer face. Arthur still tried to struggle against the other, but it was useless, as his weight prevented him from moving. That and the ropes.

Merlin was unbelievably calm. Or having a mental breakdown. In any case, he didn’t show any of it. He tried to hold himself as formal as possible even if the very position in which they were was peak familiarity. His legs were on the right side of Arthur’s, and his arms were, for now, hanging at his sides.

“I am… going to need steadiness for this,” the raven-haired man declared, still pretending to be filling a contract or whatever that didn’t correspond at all to what was happening. He slowly lifted his arms to rest his hands on the blonde’s shoulders, a bit trembling. This contact fuelled the nice shade of pink that half of his face was now wearing. Arthur kept on moving his head away, turning it to the side, energetically closing his eyes and pleading. Merlin really felt like an executioner, and a really _ugly one_.

“PLEASE! I’m begging you! LeT mE gOooooOOo!” he howled, prey to the greatest pain.

Merlin looked at him, his head screaming to deck him in the face but his heart whispering to try a kiss. It was really a unique situation. Closing his eyes in turn, almost as repulsed as the blonde, he moved his face closer, and closer, until only a few centimetres separated both lips. Arthur had closed his mouth like a constipated tortoise, his neck reproducing the distance Merlin gained by moving away. But at one point, he was trapped. So he just waited. Merlin’s hands were gripping the fabric of his shirt so hard in concentration that he was almost tearing it off. He was getting closer, and closer…

And he stopped.

                He let his head fall down on Arthur’s chest, defeated. He exhaled loudly, as he had been holding his breath in anticipation. “I can’t do this,” he murmured. The blonde moaned in relief as he let his head fall down once again.

“I can’t do it… _like this_ ,” he looked up at the mezzanine. The seven dwarves were gladly enjoying the show, heads resting on their hands, looking directly at the scene from above. Not a single of them had missed what was playing out downstairs.

“What do you mean! We’re just making sure everything is fine!” Percival cried out, frustrated.

“Yeah, it’s like theatre, you know?” Mordred added, sighing.

“Just pretend we’re not there!” Gwen assured.

“How can I pretend you’re not there when I have a perfect view on your fascinated eyes?!!” Merlin protested. “I can literally _feel_ your gazes on me, guys!”

“Alright, alright, we’ll leave you alone,” Lancelot declared, as the dwarves sighed and grumbled in disagreement. They turned around to lie down, facing the broken roof.

 

                Merlin looked at the roof too. This could not take any longer. It was torture for the both of them, even if this asshole of a prince only thought about himself. He ruffled his hair, shook his entire body, but did not move from his spot on Arthur’s legs, still begging for letting him go. The raven-haired boy used a far more direct approach, the whole situation getting on his nerves.

                He moved his hands from the blonde’s shoulders to frame his face with them. Arthur was unable to move his head. It was an absurd picture, him with his big cheeks and his stupid tortoise-like mouth, and his closed eyes. As Merlin moved closer, he made some disapproving noises with his throat, but that was all. Closing his ocean eyes under his black lashes, Merlin approached, to deposit a soft, gentle and chaste kiss on the pursed lips.

                Instantly, Arthur’s eyebrows stopped frowning; instantly, his shoulders went down in easing; instantly, he stopped imitating a constipated tortoise to fully appreciate what was happening, and slightly opened his mouth. He felt as if an angel had put a rose upon his lips, tasting a distant strawberry and, most importantly, other lips as sweet and tender as…

He did not know. There was no comparison to make. Or maybe just one.

_As sweet and tender as the lightest snowflake, that falls upon your lip like a tear from the sky._

                He slowly opened his eyes, caught in the kindest slumber, hardly believing what was going on. Light suddenly rained upon him, as the first face he saw was the one he had sought his whole life. A reassuring face with striking cheekbones, long dark lashes that revealed the brightest and bluest eyes he had ever encountered, and charcoal hair. And those ears, that he was used to see rather pink now. He glanced at Merlin, completely spellbound, but in a different way.

“The Queen…” he murmured.

The seven dwarves grunted in desperation, letting out accusations and ready to lynch Leon who had this stupid idea. Merlin let down his head, helpless and hopeless, hands falling on the blonde’s shoulders.

“… means nothing to me,” he continued.

                And the look of utter rejoicing and relief he saw in those sublime eyes made him the happiest man on earth. He flashed a radiant smile that highlighted his joyful gaze and his shining wheat hair, as the raven-haired man mirrored his gesture, a bit more shyly. Merlin hastily untied the blonde at the hands’ level, feeling sorry for him. Once he was partially free, Arthur didn’t wait to break the ropes on his feet and framed the other’s face to kiss him one more time, radiating with glee.

“ALRIGHT, we get it, it works!” yelled Gwaine, trying to break the mood, as his colleagues laughed altogether and celebrated the end of the spell. Now that Arthur was free, they were going to reveal Morgana’s true nature to him. And they’ll have another ally in their final assault.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to add except that I'm bad at poetry and at portraying kisses. Sorry!  
> Thanks again for the kudos and everything!

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fairytale AU, aka my jam... Enjoy!


End file.
